A Test of Care (Reid ED)
by Artemismoon91904
Summary: After a case, Reid gets the notion that he is worth less than the others. That is-nobody cares about him. He puts his theory to the test by seeing how long it will take them to notice that something is wrong; he's stopped eating. His anorexia might be the toughest 'Unsub' he's had to face. Research, in the end, might lead to the death of one of the most brilliant minds in the BAU.
1. The Plan

**AN: This is my first Criminal Minds fic and my first thing on this site. I did actually read the rules and guidelines and they scared the crap out of me. If you decide to comment, please be honest. I hope I do an okay job with the characters and make a believable scenario. I'm not shipping anyone but there will be a little bit fluff (** ** _mostly_** **with Morgan and Reid) that I feel we don't get enough of canon. This is a Reid-centric fic. Thanks for REIDing ;)**

 **WARNING: More than just a mention of eating disorders. That's literally the topic of this fic.**

The sound of the jet's engine was all he could hear humming in his ears. His eyes blurred as he attempted to make out the words on the page of the book sitting in his hands. God, he must've been tired. He looked away from the page to focus his thoughts, wondering why he was having such a hard time. Recall was no problem, thankfully, and he quickly played back everything that had happened on the case they had just closed. It wasn't anything extraordinary. Arson was easy to profile, especially when the Unsub happened to keep a detailed online blog about everything bad that happened to him. Reid almost had felt bad for the guy. That is, before he tried to set Reid on fire. The sympathy ended there.

He went further back to the beginning of the case.

 _"First and only victim: Elena Bruce, Caucasian female, brunette, twenty-three. It looks to have been an accidental death; smoke inhalation. Our Unsub isn't using fire as a cover for murder, he..."_

Not useful at this time. He zoomed through and enjoyed the slightly unclear memories of dreams. Those were a break from the incessant details that he could access but also proved that he had gotten enough sleep. So what-

Oh. It hit him. Food. He had forgotten to eat the whole three days they were in Arizona. He looked around suspiciously at the others on the jet. Prentiss across from him was asleep. Rossi, Morgan, and Hotch were sitting at the table talking in hushed voices about something Reid didn't care to know about at the moment. J.J. was alternating staring out the window from the seat across the aisle from the group of men, her head leaning on the glass and probably making a mark on her forehead.

For some reason now Reid felt like they would all be onto him, as if his own realisation that he was going hungry had suddenly registered to all of their minds as well. Instead of that impossible event, something different registered for Reid: Nobody had noticed. They'd been with him the whole time. He'd seen them eat and get each other things, but no one brought anything for him. No one asked him if he was hungry or if he needed something.

Was it because he was unapproachable? Did he look too busy? Had the others asked for themselves in order to provoke the concern of the other team members?

Or did they just not care enough to notice?

The scientist he was, he decided to test what he thought was the most likely of his theories. That happened to be the last. He would see how long it took for them to figure out that something was wrong. Now that he was conscious of this idea to not eat, it should be noticeable to the other profilers. It was their job, after all, to figure out what was wrong based on reactions. Reid figured that if he could continue for any more than a week without anyone saying or implying anything, then his theory would be proven. The next step was a bridge he would cross when he came to it.

Liberation struck him. It felt good to have a plan. He smiled to himself and looked back down to his book, reading at what he estimated to be only 6,000 words per minute. Glasses could hopefully help that side effect.

 _ **The next day...**_

They had all gone home except Hotch and Rossi the night before, those two to finish some paperwork that was apparently urgent. Reid offered to stay and help but Rossi had forbidden him from it, having noticed on the plane how disconnected Reid had been and how his reading pace had slowed. The younger agent gladly (for once) obliged.

He felt pretty terrible when he woke up. He was shaking, the world was always on a slight tilt, and his eyes couldn't seem to be able to focus on any one thing for more than three seconds. Sleeping hadn't much helped.

Deciding that the 'not eating' thing didn't have to deprive him of his coffee, he put the kettle on as he changed for work and took what he made with him in his car.

He walked into work convinced that if he hadn't had the coffee he wouldn't have been able to drive. He had waited too long at two green lights and nearly ran a red. Public transport was a last resort (all those germs and people so close sometimes they would touch you) but he figured it would be a better option than getting into a car crash. That would be an addition to his plan.

He set his empty coffee cup down on his desk and hooked his messenger bag over the back of his chair before sitting down and glancing over his stacks of papers. With a sigh he got to work.

Sometimes his own proficiency amazed him. He was finished with nearly all of his work by 1:30 when Garcia approached him.

He rolled back in his chair and smiled up at her, raising his eyebrows a little, in greeting.

"How's my Kid Wonder doing?" She grinned as she completed her trek over to him.

"I'm good, how about you?" He cringed inwardly at the generic question and answer. He hated small talk.

"Super. I've been making my rounds to the others and checking up in person, you know, like how I do sometimes, and it seems like some magical work fairy has somehow made all of our dreams come true."

"What do you-" He started only to be cut off by Garcia who raised her voice above his.

"Bap, bap, bap! Let me explain. So the work fairy has made it so that all of the paperwork is magically helping out in filling itself out or something because there is no other explanation as to why everyone's been working so damn fast today. I swear, it's unprecedented speed. I talked to Hotch and mentioned the fairy and-besides denying the existence of fairies-he said it would be a good night for us to go out an do something. All of us, how we barely ever get to do. I wanted to ask you to join us last after everyone else had already agreed because I figured you'd be the least likely to go if not everyone else was going. Don't debate with me about that; you do turn us down a lot individually." She took a deep breath to make up for her speed, then added: "I don't know how you talk so fast all the time. That really takes a lot out of you."

Reid couldn't help a smile. He crossed his legs up and rocked back in his chair,

"Of course I'll come. I only have four papers left; when can we leave?" The perfect time to do something obvious-to see if they said anything when it was so in their faces that they were sure to figure out something was off.

"Before 3:00, Hotch thinks. I'll call you when I know exact time and place." She offered another excited grin before scuttling off.

"Thanks, Garcia." Reid mumbled after her, knowing she probably didn't hear.

How had he not seen before all of the evidence pointing to his theory. He was the last one she had asked, not because she thought he would say no, but because he didn't matter as much as the others. It was obvious. He was so stupid for not seeing it before. His obliviousness sparked a need to retake the IQ test. He couldn't help the suspicion that it was off by at least thirty.

 _ **That night...**_

Reid wasn't one to drink, but this time it felt good. It was too loud to enjoy himself any other way, and he had already told himself that the point was not to _eat_ ; nothing liquid-specific there.

Morgan seemed more impressed than worried.

"Wow, Kid. I didn't know you could be such a heavyweight." Morgan bumped into Reid and made his skin tingle where they had touched. It wasn't a pleasant sensation.

"Yeah, well..." He didn't have a good comeback. He was too focused on rolling down his sleeves and making sure they stayed down. The word 'heavyweight' resonated within his skull. He knew it was said meaning he could take more alcohol than Morgan had anticipated, but something about the phrasing made him tick. He passed it off to him being more than tipsy. He was probably misinterpreting.

"You look like you're gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow." Morgan said it like a joke, but Reid knew it was true.

"Good thing tomorrow is probably not gonna be filled with a whole lot of things to do." Reid shook his head in frustration. He couldn't stop his words from slurring.

Morgan noticed this, "Why don't you stay at my place tonight. I haven't had much, but I'm not sober. Wouldn't be drunk driving-better than you at the wheel-but I don't want to go any farther than I have to. Your place is way out of the way."

"Taxis are a thing, you know." Reid leaned back against the bar casually, feeling the need to support himself in a world that just seemed to keep tipping.

"After that case two weeks ago no way am I letting a drunk friend ride home with a stranger alone." Morgan laughed to assuage the serious nature of his comment.

"I'm _not_ drunk." Reid slurred. His hand slipped from the bar and he nearly fell just standing.

"Just like I'm Moses. Kid, this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. I'm not letting you drive yourself home and I'm not leaving you alone with a stranger. Okay?"

Reid sighed in defeat, unable to come up with a counterargument, "Alright. What time is it?"

Morgan checked his watch, "Uh... two AM. Damn, we've been out a while. Pretty sure it's just us left here. I just saw J.J. and Prentiss leave."

Reid nodded in comprehension, "Is it just me or does the name Prentiss kind of sound like a preying mantis?"

Morgan shook his head with a smile, "Let's get you out of here."

"One more, just one more." Reid suggested. Apparently Morgan had a veto power.

Reid was ushered through a crowd and out into the cold air of Virginia in the wee hours of the morning. It was a good thing Morgan's car wasn't far because Reid was having some trouble standing. In his opinion Reid really couldn't handle alcohol that well, but tonight he had proven himself wrong. He couldn't ignore that Morgan was caring enough about him to let him sleep at his house that night. His hypotheses could be wrong.

When they were in Morgan's car it was quiet, and Reid recalled in that noiseless bubble how much he liked the silence and questioned why he had been feeling up to 'partying' like the others tonight.

The illusion of a bubble of comfort was disturbed by Morgan's voice.

"How much do you weigh that you could drink like that?"

Reid was taken by surprise.


	2. Hungover

**Before I get started I just wanted to thank everyone who followed and reviewed. I appreciate that people actually took the time to read what I wrote. If you have any suggestions for something you want to happen write it in a review and I'll try to incorporate them. Putting it out there that I'm very open to the possibility of self-harm. Angst is good. I was thinking of skipping to a week later after this chapter to get things going. I should probably add that this takes place around the season five area. Good idea or not so much? I'll try to update at least once a week, probably on weekends, but no promises.**

 **Eating disorder warning.**

Morgan woke up to his alarm clock beeping to the rhythm of his pulsating head. It didn't take him long to recall the events of last night. He couldn't believe he had let himself drive Reid-

Reid! Reid was here, sleeping on his sofa downstairs. Morgan rolled on his side and silenced the alarm, dragging himself out of bed. Four hours of sleep wasn't as bad as none. Work still had to be done.

He got dressed ignoring the throbbing in the back of his head-he'd had worse-and took that time to worry about his friend downstairs. The kid had had way more than he should've last night, and he knew that while he was doing it. Did he want a hangover or something? It was so unlike Reid.

Downstairs he walked past Reid, glancing to make sure he was still there, and started making coffee for the two of them. They needed it.

"Coffee?" A voice asked from the living area a few minutes into the process. Morgan turned and saw Reid's head and shoulders peaking up from behind the back of the cushions. His eyes were squinted against the light on above him, his mouth slightly contorted to the side in what Morgan assumed was pain from a headache.

Morgan nodded, "Yeah. We still gotta clock in. Figured I'd make you some coffee as well, seeing as you practically live off the stuff."

Reid smiled and sighed, barely audible over the sound of brewing, "Thanks, Morgan." He stood up and his his head, then his stomach. "Um, I think I'm going to-"

"You know where it is." Morgan responded calmly and let Reid make a run for the bathroom. He expected some vomit this morning as there had been last night after they arrived.

Morgan finished making his own coffee and Reid's how each liked it, almost opposites of each other, and downed his while he waited for Reid.

"You sure you can handle coffee?" Morgan said when Reid emerged.

"It doesn't matter whether I can handle it; I need it." He paused in his tracks and Morgan put his cup down, ready to help if need be. Instead of falling over, which Morgan half expected, the young agent spoke again.

"Morgan, I'm not going to be eating for a while, okay?" He said seriously.

"I don't blame you. You probably wouldn't be able to keep it down if you did." Morgan responded, his voice floating above the suddenly heavy mood.

Reid nodded gently, "Thank you for caring." With that, he retrieved his coffee, emptying it in tentative sips.

 ** _Later..._**

"Reid okay?" Prentiss asked Morgan with a chuckle that absorbed any thickness that was in the air before.

"Just hungover."

"What? No. He did _not_ drink _more_ than you. Did he?"

Reid rolled his chair backwards so the view of him wasn't blocked by the side of a cubicle and made himself known, "Is there something wrong with that?"

Prentiss was saved by Hotch's voice calling them all in for a case. The team convened in the bullpen around the table and awaited briefing in relative silence. Morgan stole glances at Reid, noticing the others doing the same. A few looked at him for answers, but he provided none, sure Reid wouldn't appreciate this type of attention. Morgan saw on the genius's face a layer of shame that morning. He hadn't lifted his chin to talk to anyone, nor had he initiated any conversation based on some strange facts, interjected with a statistic, or any of his usual feats.

J.J. was giving the briefing:

"This is Jake Huntington, he was killed at a church during an early service. It looks like he was targeted because of convenience. Neck was cut open, he bled out in a matter of seconds right in front of his daughter."

"Doing that in a church seems highly symbolic. Religious agenda?" Prentiss suggested her theory.

"The local detective on the case ruled that out considering the first two victims. The first victim, Donald Michelson, was found in an open stall in the men's room in a restaurant." J.J. thwarted the possibility.

Reid shifted forward and asked, "What kind of restaurant?" Morgan could see his wheels turning. He smiled; Reid wasn't completely gone.

"Local place, white tablecloths and jug wine. And then second victim, Kara Schuyler, was killed at a laundromat. All three had their throats slashed." J.J. finished with the basics.

"M.O. seems consistent but the victimology is all over the place. He doesn't care who he's killing, only how." Morgan noticed.

"And he's doing it in public; no compunction for who sees him." Rossi added.

"Sketch?" Hotch asked J.J.

"No, and all anyone can agree on is that he's a white male between 25 and 40." J.J. informed.

"Well, that narrows it down." Prentiss sighed.

"Hard to blame the witnesses, distracted by how bloody these murders seem to be." Rossi looked at the gory pictures displayed on the screen for them.

"His cooling off period is what's bothering me. It's getting shorter and shorter with no attempt to hide his identity or his activity." Morgan looked from each of his teammates to another, lingerin gon the unusually silent Reid. "This could be a major psychotic break. An Unsub this bold, it wouldn't be unusual."

"I already asked the local detective to pull recent releases from mental institutions." J.J. assured them.

"Psychotic break or not, we need to get to Deleware. This looks like the start of a spree." Hotch slid his chair back and started to get up. Morgan finally traded his attention on Reid to Hotch.

"Anyone could be a target." Rossi added and followed in suit. The others all stood, Reid last and slowly.

"Wheels up in thirty." Hotch left the bullpen, followed eventually by the others.

Morgan stopped at the door, "Reid? You coming?" He caught the boy's attention.

"Yeah, sorry." He walked slowly to meet Morgan at the exit. Morgan noticed him shaking a little.

"You okay?" He asked out of moral necessity.

Reid locked eyes with him and stared as if to say 'Really?'

"Right, right. Bad timing for a spree killing case." Morgan put an arm around Reid's shoulder and guided him out of the room. He noticed that Reid didn't pull away or even tense.

 _ **On the jet...**_

The laptop blinked on to show Garcia looking very preoccupied, "Looks like one of those cases where you're gonna have a hard time, at least for a little while. I can find no connection between any of the victims (I didn't expect to) and as you already know there are no useful witness descriptions. Do my lovelies have anything that could help me find anything at all of use? Because I am sitting here and feeling, as much as I hate to admit it, a little lost."

"Not yet, Garcia, we're feeling as lost as you." Rossi didn't look up from the case file.

"Aw, alright. Call me when something happens. Be careful-anyone could be a target. Garcia out." Her image disappeared from the screen as quick;y as it had come.

"Let's look at what we can. The weapon and locations." Hotch started up the profiling mode in everyone.

"He used a knife even though guns would be more efficient, and he left the weapon at each of the crime scenes. He's not connected to his weapon. That's unusual for serial killers." Prentiss leafed through the file.

"Locations don't seem to have anything in common." Reid inputted from his corner away from everyone else.

"What else is there?" Morgan asked and looked around for an answer.

"A stressor?" J.J. offered. "There's got to be one." The profilers considered their liaison's thought and decided to look more closely at possibilities when they had more information. The flight went quickly, ideas being bounced. Each were assigned to different scenes, to talk to witnesses, or to stay at the station, where Reid and Hotch would be. Morgan felt a responsibility for the kid after he had been with him all last night and that morning, almost so much as to protest that he be with Reid, but he realised he would be needed in the field, and Reid wouldn't be of much use there today.

 _ **I AM TAKING SUGGESTIONS IN REVIEWS**_ **if you didn't read the beginning bold. Can't say I blame you.**

 **The briefing given by J.J. and the interjections during that briefing were strongly based off of the Season 5, Episode 15 "Public Enemy" briefing, so I'll credit that to the show's writers. *Is terrified of getting dinged for plagiarism or something even though I didn't copy it* This chapter is a little shorter than the last one and I know it isn't exactly focusing on Reid but that's all going to change in the next chapter, which I am going to start right now. I will be adding more scenes where they're all together, it's just that having a lot of people actively being characters in a room all at once is something I need to work on. I feel like I always forget someone, so sorry if I did that with the jet scene here. There won't be much more than a mention on this case because cases aren't the focus of this fic. I'll find a way to keep the team together but not have them all out on a case in a way that actually makes sense. Thank you to whoever took the time to read my ramblings and also to those of you who are following this fic.**


	3. Confrontation

**Look forward to a confrontation and some escalation of Reid's 'plan'. For this chapter I'm going to try out shifting POV's in third person. I hope it works; I don't normally write like that.**

 _ **A week later...**_

The BAU had had two cases since the very public knife killer almost back to back. For each of the new cases they had barely had time to go home and get ready for bed before they were called out again. Everyone was exhausted, but none looked quite as bad as Reid. It was anyone's guess how much sleep he had gotten this whole time, and they hadn't seen him take the time off to have a meal. He had been so determined to finish the cases that no one had bothered him, but now that they were back in Quantico, they had every reason to talk to him if his behaviour persisted.

Reid was finally alone in the quiet of his apartment. There was no more temptations around him. He had no food in his house. The only real temptation was his bed calling out for him and reaching for him with its warm arms made of sheets, ready to hug him into the pillows.

But that wasn't part of the plan.

He had made it painfully obvious to his team, he thought, that he wasn't eating. They offered, he refused. That's how it went. He knew they noticed him not eating when he was with them. Was it possible they assumed he ate when he wasn't with them working? Yes, sure, but with how much weight he had lost, Reid had assumed his friends would've asked him what was wrong. _Friends_. Like he could apply that word anymore. He had to do something more than just not eat. He couldn't sleep. Maybe if he stopped drinking coffee they would care. If he stopped being able to work they would care.

So he took out his encyclopedia of biographies book and read as slowly as he could, pronouncing each word individually in his head like he was speaking. Maybe reading slowly would make them care.

He kept awake with this notion.

Hotch didn't have the energy to talk to anyone when he got home. That was readily recognised and he was left alone to catch up on days of no sleep. His mind replayed moments of each case spliced into each other and processed the images like he was still working. Sometimes it was hard to turn it off. The only way he knew they were all from different cases was by using Reid's physical appearance as a marker. He didn't have too much time to think about that before his thoughts slowed to a blank mind and he was finally allowed to sleep.

J.J. was far too stressed thinking about everything that had happened and about tomorrow's paperwork to sleep right away. A movie calmed her down enough that she could fall asleep during it, but a foggy dream persisted after she had slipped away from reality. Based in memories, she saw Reid at the beginning of the busiest week they had had for a long time, and then saw him after. Her subconscious finally alerted her that she was worried for her friend. She allowed herself to see what was happening to him.

Prentiss needed a glass of wine and a few minutes with Sergio before she could be content with sleep. She used the silence to take the time to shove the memories from those cases away into a different part of her mind. After they were gone she could rest without much fear of nightmares. Going through these things consciously brought up a memory from when Hankle... From that case. J.J. asked her how she could be so fine with everything coming from a desk job. The answer was compartmentalization. But that one memory led to another, as frequently happens, and her mind was focused on Reid. He had seemed off these last few cases. Distant, reluctant to do anything with the team that wasn't directly related to the case. He wouldn't even eat with them... Prentiss shoved those last suspicions away and gave Sergio a kiss before making sure the door was locked, turning off the lights, and drifting off.

Garcia noticed more than people gave her credit for. Maybe it was because she only saw them periodically, but she could see differences in their appearances whenever they came back from cases. Usually it wasn't much of anything. Looking more tired, sometimes needing a shave, but Reid had shocked her last time she saw him. He had always been skinny, but she could see a difference just in his face. She didn't want to think about what could be behind his long sleeves and pants. The image of her boy genius made her shiver under her covers. He looked like a zombie; gaunt face, greasy hair, dark circles and bags, all slumped over like he couldn't bare to be standing and shaking. She lie awake until she could no more worrying about what happened to her baby that her other babies weren't telling her about.

Rossi had been on quite a few cases in his time, and he had had more than his fair share of sleeplessness, but this was just ridiculous. He couldn't blame the rest of the team for not saying a word to each other when they arrived back. He himself didn't have the energy to blink, let alone move his mouth. At least Garcia seemed to have gotten some sleep throughout that parade of cases. Hopefully now after that bombardment there would be a while of peace. At least long enough for them to finish their paperwork and be rested enough to take something else in another state. A thought that he had been trying to push away surfaced. Reid had been acting strangely. It wasn't his place to profile his co-workers, but this one had happened automatically. He tried again in vain to remove the start of his profile from his mind. It flashed to him in chunks with the conclusion of anorexia. But Reid, anorexic? That wasn't probably enough to dwell on. He hoped.

Morgan knew there was something wrong. He replayed over and over again how Reid had told him that he wasn't going to be eating a while. What if he had been referring to longer than just however long it took for him to get over his hangover? It certainly looked like that was the case. Morgan hadn't seen the kid eat _one bite_ of food since that conversation, and he looked like he hadn't eaten since then either. The team had shared glances, but that was all. Morgan had even been convinced he was overreacting or seeing things until Garcia's greeting smile faltered noticeably when she saw him. Reid had lost weight and looked in bad health anyway. Morgan just hoped it would get better now that they were home.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

 _ **Morning...**_

Reid closed the book only when his alarm went off. His eyes burned, but that was nothing compared to the aching in his bones. He had stopped feeling hunger a few days ago. All he had to worry about was the temptation of food.

He went to his bathroom and looked in the mirror. To him, he just looked like a slightly tired and in-need-of-a-shave Spencer Reid. That is to say, there wasn't too much of a difference. The scale disagreed, putting that difference at about seventeen pounds.

Reid shrugged it off and, due to the stinging, opted not to wear contacts today, but rather his glasses. He couldn't help feeling he needed a stronger prescription when he put them on and saw that some things were still out of focus. There was no time to dwell on that. Dwelling time could be used as dressing and shaving time, which it eventually was.

He hadn't trusted himself to drive since his plan had taken off, and he certainly wouldn't now that he had accelerated it. He knew the dangers of not eating, but somehow those turned into benefits. The worse off he could make himself, the better. Sleep deprived and starving was a good start. He didn't think about how fulfilling it was to do this to himself. It was such a liberating feeling. He didn't quite understand why feeling so bad would make him feel so good.

Reid was running late for being early. Hotch didn't mind; it gave him time to call the rest of the team into the bullpen.

"Not another damn case." Morgan groaned, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion.

"No." Hotch reassured him, drawing sighs of relief from everyone else. "I just wanted to talk about Reid..."

Everyone's attention was had.

Garcia spoke quietly, unused to sitting at this table but even more uncomfortable with talking about her friend behind his back. It was for his own good, she reminded herself. Something was wrong and he needed his friends to help fix it. "I guess you all also noticed how skinny he got."

"I didn't see him eat during any of those cases. Come to think of it, all the way back to the arson case. What if he hasn't eaten since then?" J.J. said looking from face to face seeing them mimic her worry, most of them displaying it to a lesser degree.

"That would've been eleven days without any food. I was thinking the same thing, J.J., and I hope we're both wrong." Rossi held her eyes and tried to offer some hope in his.

"Do we really think Reid could have anorexia?" Morgan was the first to use the a-word. Everyone was thinking it, Morgan knew, and he decided to be the one to break down the taboo.

"As much as I hate to say it, it looks like it." Prentiss admitted, thinking back on her observations from the night before. The words _Reid_ and _anorexic_ didn't want to match up in her brain.

"So, how do we do this?" Rossi asked reluctantly.

"We can wait and profile why he's doing it to better understand what to do, which means waiting for him to get worse while we profile another member of our team without his consent. Or we could confront him about it now and try to fix it as soon as we can." Hotch said.

"I just want to see my baby okay again as soon as possible." Garcia's voice cracked.

"I second that." Morgan didn't look up from his hands.

Agreement rang throughout the room.

"Alright." Hotch turned to Garcia. "Can you talk to him? If one of us asks he'll assume we all know, but you always worry. You can ask him about it without it seeming too obvious that we're all onto him."

"Okay, but could you please not use phrases like 'on to him'? It makes it sound like he's an Unsub." Garcia said.

Hotch nodded, "Sorry. But we should all keep in mind that we might be wrong about this. It could've just been that these cases or something in his private life has him more stressed out than usual and he's forgetting to eat while working, losing weight from the stress."

"I never I thought I would hope something was going on in Reid's personal life. I just can't imagine him purposefully starving himself." Morgan shook his head.

Hotch mostly ignored him and said instead, "We should disband. He could be here any minute and get suspicious if he sees us all talking in here without him."

Surely enough, as soon as everyone had gotten into their normal places, Reid rushed through the doors and up to Hotch, "I'm so sorry I'm late, I was so tired last night but I couldn't fall asleep because I could hear my neighbours through my walls until really early in the morning and then I had finally gotten to sleep and I was so tired I slept through my alarm and-"

Hotch held up a hand to quiet the frantic agent, "It's okay, I understand. I was planning on being lenient today anyway."

"Thanks, thank you." Reid nodded his head in something that looked to Hotch almost like a bow (which reminded him to check his ego) and scurried off to his desk to sort through papers.

Hotch had been watching carefully and knew that Reid was lying about something. What, he couldn't be exactly sure. He had been talking too quickly for accurate analysis, which he probably did on purpose. It was obvious he hadn't gotten any sleep, and the energy that allowed him to make up his excuse and execute its explanation so readily was probably only from panic of repercussions for being late. Now that Hotch had assuaged that fear, he hoped he could see enough to get an accurate profile. Despite the consensus to confront him right away and _not_ do a profile, he was sure everyone else was secretly working on their own as well. He profiled that from the way they all watched Reid to carefully. Hotch also profiled that they probably profiled that Hotch was profiling them and Reid. Profilespection.

Reid was startled out of his slow reading-only five pages in the whole three minutes and twenty-eight seconds he had been sitting there-by none other than Garcia.

"Oh, hi. You startled me." Reid smiled and put his paper down.

"Sorry, honey, I didn't mean to." She said. Reid's smile melted into a confused frown. What was that voice she was using? Like she was talking to a wounded puppy or something of the like.

"Why are you doing that?" Reid asked plainly, suddenly feeling self-conscious to the extreme. He felt like his glasses somehow incriminated him, his weight loss was a brandished murder weapon, his exhausted eyes blood stains, his sweater was a body he was caught carrying. Anything not completely usual about him was evidence against him. Somehow, completely illogically, that made him want to exaggerate whatever he could. Be as different as possible. He wished he could get thicker glasses, lose weight faster, sleep less than no hours a night. He wondered in the back of his head if these strange types of connections had something to do with how Unsubs usually acted; things for a reason that only made sense to them. He decided with that connection that he couldn't share these thoughts with anyone. He decided that he was going crazy and he didn't care.

"Reid? Can you hear me?" Garcia leaned closer to him worriedly.

"Yeah, sorry." He rubbed his eyes, "Just having trouble staying focused."

Garcia pulled up a chair, inviting herself into Reid's personal space. He didn't quite mind this time. He was too preoccupied with himself, wondering why he was doing these things.

"Spencer, I need to ask you something." She said quietly. First name, not good. Ask you something, very not good. Both, very very not good.

Reid swallowed, "Yeah?"

Garcia looked around for a second or two like she was trying to find the words to form her question somewhere on the walls and ceiling. "I think... You..." She breathed and started again, "How much weight have you lost?" She managed to croak out.

Reid was taken aback slightly. He was expecting something along these lines, but it surprised him nonetheless. "Why do you ask that?" His mouth went dry.

"You look like you've lost weight. A lot in a short amount of time. I want to help you but I don't know how, and I needed something to introduce the subject with so I figured asking how much weight you lost might make an okay start to the conversation." Garcia spit out with some difficulty, still keeping her volume low.

Reid noticed she was trying to be discrete. He noticed how hard this was for her. Conclusion was that she cared. Finally, someone other than Morgan cared about him.

"Seventeen pounds." He wasn't ashamed to answer her question. Someone could recognise his progress. Progress? Was that the word he was using now? It worked as well as any. He decided he liked making progress.

Reid watched as Garcia's brightly coloured lips parted in disbelief. "Why... how? Did you let that happen?" Reid almost felt bad about making Garcia almost cry, as it seemed, made evident from her voice.

Reid shrugged, "It's really not that much weight. And I'm only barely technically underweight for my height, which is about 140 as an average agreement between professionals."

"So how much do you weigh, exactly?" Garcia asked, voice still hushed.

Reid smiled just a little. He liked that question, but he also wanted to avoid answering. "See, that's funny and actually really difficult to answer considering how much a person's weight can fluctuate in a day just depending on what they're doing, when they last ate or drank something, or what's happened since they last went to the bathroom. 'Exactly' is a-"

"Stop it. You know I love you but just stop talking and answer my question to the best of your ability." Garcia practically begged. She wasn't sure what information she was supposed to get from Reid, but she figured how much he weighed might be a good start besides his confession.

"Well last I checked, which was actually this morning so it should still be mostly accurate, it was 128.46, but that may or may not be-"

"Are you kidding? Please say you're kidding, because if you're not kidding then I know fifteen year old girls who weigh more than you and that should not be right." Garcia said.

"You keep interrupting me." Reid complained halfheartedly. He didn't want to comment on the obesity rate in teenagers in the U.S. during this conversation.

"Why haven't you been eating? Because if you're trying to lose weight you really shouldn't be and if you were insistent there are better ways to go about it."

"No, it's not about that, exactly." He avoided eye contact before he remembered that that was a sign of lying. He didn't want her to think that he was lying with that, because he wasn't. Or was he? He couldn't be sure anymore, but he knew that losing weight was not his primary intention. Had it become part of the appeal? Maybe, but that wasn't why he hadn't been eating.

"Then what is it? I want to help." Garcia pleaded. She couldn't stand to let this continue.

Reid contemplated telling her his plan. It seemed like there would be no serious repercussions. His experiment wouldn't be messed up because of this. He looked around to see that the others were all engrossed in their work and oblivious to the two of them. He figured they weren't eavesdropping or anything. They were too quiet against the sounds of the floor to be eavesdropped on anyway.

Reid motioned for Garcia to come closer, "Please don't tell anyone else about this except maybe Morgan if he asks. Promise me."

Garcia nodded, "I promise." She knew she couldn't break this promise, but there was a loophole she had already found. Get Morgan to ask, tell him, have him tell the others. Whatever it was, it must be important.

"Okay. I'm conducting this kind of experiment where-"

"Garcia, we need you. Now." Hotch's urgent voice boomed over to them. Garcia knew it must be something damn important to pull her away from Reid.

"Tell me later. I'm sorry." She stood and scurried away as fast as she could, speeding up when she heard the word "breach" from Hotch.

Reid spoke to Garcia though she had already gone, "I won't tell you later. It's a sign. I'm not supposed to tell anyone. I know it's a sign. I shouldn't have trusted you. I shouldn't have thought you cared. _I'm_ sorry. I made that mistake."

Prentiss and J.J. shared a look, both having witnessed Reid talking to thin air. There was something more to this they had to figure out.

 **I hope I made up for the kind of short chapter 2 with this one. About 1,000 words longer than the first. Highscore! Please let me know what you think should happen with Reid and what the team should do about him next. I'll have time to read suggestions since this will probably be my last update this week (it's 3am March 12th and I've been working on this fic for hours). More will be coming next weekend regardless of reader suggestions so if you know what you want _please_ tell me.**

 **Thank you all so very much for reading.**


	4. JJ

**I am so amazed at how many people have read this so far. Thank you all and a special thanks to those who reviewed. As a response to a request, I will be adding an element of traditional self harm. To the guest who said that Reid should be dead after not eating for eleven days, you are incorrect. I actually looked up what would happen to someone going that long without food but still being hydrated and I followed medical research and personal anecdotes. It depends on the person, but generally people can survive up to and beyond forty days without eating anything. Reid is at least getting some calories from what he drinks.**

 **Sorry for that rant-ish explanation. On a happier note, I wanted to personally thank that-annoying-chick for the review. It made my day.**

 **Eating disorder and self harm warning.**

 ** _The next day..._**

Hotch had made sure to have everyone except Reid there early. For once, nobody complained.

Garcia shared her findings from the conversation, not helping the others in their fear for Reid.

"But he didn't deny it?" Morgan confirmed.

"No, like I'm saying he actually full on admitted that he had stopped eating. He was about to explain to me why, something to do with an experiment, but then Hotch called me to take care of the attempted hack."

"It's probably something like observing the effects on a human body and mind, knowing him." Prentiss said.

"Best case-scenario." J.J. added glumly. "I don't want to report this, but if he gets too bad..."

"I know." Hotch said. "We'll have to suspend him."

"But we didn't suspend him even when he was shooting up all the time, why should we now?" Morgan defended his best friend.

"Wait, wait, wait." Rossi interrupted. "You mean _Reid_ has a history of drug addiction?"

Hotch nodded, "We should've reported or confronted him about it but we didn't want to damage his reputation that badly. He fought by himself and won, but he shouldn't have had to."

"Did you consider," Rossi shifted forward, "That maybe he's using again, and that's what set him off?"

The rest of the team was quiet.

Morgan shook his defiantly, "No way. He was way too happy to finally get clean. He wouldn't have started again for no reason."

"Maybe there was a reason. We could look into stressors." Rossi said.

"No. Rossi, I know that kid. He's my best friend. I would be able to tell if he were using." Morgan set up a defensive front, hands in front of him looking ready for a fight if the need arose.

"Yeah, I agree with Morgan." Garcia added, "He didn't seem high, and drugs wouldn't explain his 'experiment'."

"We need to find out what his end game is." Prentiss was immediately met by a glare from Garcia at her words. "Sorry, what his... experimental purpose is."

"How are we going to do that?" J.J. asked hopelessly.

Hotch considered it. "We ask him."

Reid couldn't take it. He'd let himself sleep that night, and man did it feel good. Until he woke up, that is, and realised what he'd done. His body wanted him to get better, but he didn't. He had fallen asleep. He was weak. God, was he weak. He couldn't even make it a few days without sleep. What business did he have in the FBI? He wasn't good enough to stay up, he wasn't good enough to be a field agent. He wasn't good enough, period.

He needed to counteract the good sleeping had done for him, and fast. He didn't know what to do. He could throw up, but there was nothing but water to do that with. Starting the not sleeping cycle again would take too long.

Images all of the bloody bodies he had ever encountered flashed before his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought his mind was trying to tell him to kill himself. It scared him that he almost thought to comply. He was saved by the sudden understanding of what he was really meant to do. He didn't have to die to get bloody.

He had enough razor blades to get started fairly well. He stripped down to his underwear and sat in front of his mirror with the blade between his fingers. His arms first. They looked to clean. He slashed through the skin in intentionally messy lines and relished the stinging sensation, the look of the blood trailing down his skin. He added a few marks to his upper arm for good measure. That looked good. Very destroyed, blood trailing down to his finger tips. As he started on his other arm in the same manner, he considered why he was doing this-destroying himself in this way. The team would never see it, so it must be just for himself. Why? Because everything he had been doing had always been for himself. Since he was a kid, everything he had ever done would only ever be recognised by himself. Nobody really cared. How had he let them fool him for so long? Morgan probably didn't even care. What had he gotten that night when he let Reid stay at his house? He gave Reid coffee with a lot of sugar. Sugar, of course. He was trying to make Reid gain back some weight. Well he sure as hell was not going to let that happen. Those selfish creatures would get nothing more out of him. Not his thoughts, his complacency, his sanity, nothing!

He stopped his bloodied hand from moving and noticed a startling number of increasingly deeper gashes all over his body. Blood stained the carpet beneath him and coated his body. It hurt worse than any bullet he'd ever felt. How could he have done this to himself? It must've been because he was so lost in thought. That's why he couldn't remember doing this; that's why it had gone so far. Not because he willed this on himself.

He needed a shower.

"Reid just called in sick." Hotch announced to the team present.

"Someone should go check on him." J.J. suggested. Eyes turned to the communications liaison, forever communicating, it seemed.

"You have permission to leave ASAP." Hotch authorised. "Find out what we can do to help him. We need him, and, right now, he needs us."

Reid was startled by a knock at the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, he thought to himself, so he had the right to be startled.

"Who is it?" He called, carefully finishing getting dressed after washing all the blood off, careful not to mess up the metres of bandages he'd used.

"It's J.J.. I know you really hate germs, so I figured that if you're sick you might be freaking out a little. Especially since you aren't at work. That really worried everyone. Hotch let me go to see if you needed anything, even company. He figured it must be pretty bad if you voluntarily decided to stay home." She felt bad about lying, but it seemed to be her best option.

"It's..." Reid considered that she had taken time off work to drive all the way here for him. He ran through reasons why that could benefit her, but found nothing. Waste of time, gas, money, breath, energy... She might've even had to talk Hotch into letting her go. Use of a favour.

He opened the door to let her in.

J.J. wasn't too shocked by what she saw; a dimly lit apartment with an obscene amount of books strewn across the floor, tables, stacked in corners, in the middle of the floor, stuffed into bookshelves. A chess board with pieces that looked in the middle of a game sat by a curtained window, an old TV that didn't seem to be of much use to the Doctor against that wall facing a sofa. Doors led to other rooms.

"How are you feeling?" J.J. asked after she'd finished her quick sweep.

"Actually, I want to show you something. Don't ask any questions, just let me explain. I want to show you, but you can't tell another soul, dead or alive, what you saw. You can't try to talk me into doing anything or change my mind. Swear to me that you won't do any of those things."

"Spence, you're scaring me."

"Swear." He held her eyes.

"I swear." It took everything J.J. had to keep her voice steady. She didn't know if she would have it in her to break this promise, even if it meant helping her friend and a member of her team.

Reid removed his shirt. J.J. was frozen in shock, eyes pinned on his torso. She could see his ribs with the skin stretched over them, leaving an empty concave stomach below the protrusion above. His arms bore the same resemblance to a skeleton as his face. His chest, stomach and arms were littered with new looking deep slash marks-thankfully no stabs-running in all different directions. His skin was pale where it wasn't red, and he was visibly shaking and twitching.

"Oh my god, Spencer, what did you do to yourself...?" She knew what he had done. She could see it trembling in front of her now. She was most scared, though, of the image her imagination had conjured up of the future if he kept on like he was. She could see him getting worse.

"You need help." J.J. finally said as Reid buttoned up his shirt with such a normality to the action that it disturbed J.J..

"Remember, you promised-you _swore_ \- you wouldn't tell anyone. I trust you, J.J., please don't make me lose that. You're the only person I trust right now and my mind keeps changing itself to decide who I trust and don't trust, who cares or doesn't care."

"We all care about you Reid." J.J. said in a soft voice. It wasn't the wounded puppy voice that Garcia had used on him. It sounded like sincerity and love.

Reid fidgeted in the silence for a while, dealing with his own thoughts, and he appreciated that J.J. let him do that. There was a distinct absence of intrusive thoughts that had been haunting him and taking him over for more than a week. J.J. seemed to have scared the, off.

"Thank you. Honestly, thank you." Reid's eyes started stinging, and his voice in the back of his head told him to get his glasses, but that even that thought ceased when it no longer became necessary. Reid began to cry.

He spoke through tears that didn't affect his voice, "I think I need a hug... can you hug me very gently?"

J.J. nodded quickly with a pitying smile for his benefit or hers, "Of course I can."

She moved to him slowly, giving him time to change his mind, and slowly wrapped her arms around his too-thin frame. It was a surprising feeling of relief when his bony arms reciprocated the action, and Spencer Reid buried his face in J.J.'s hair to sob for himself.

 **Okay so this was obviously the darkest chapter so far. This will not be over. Not to say that J.J. isn't going to really help Reid for a little while, but I am planning on some major relapse. (Review suggestions for the relapse scene.) J.J.'s influence over Reid in making him calm down and see what was going on with himself was based off of someone who does the same for me (not saying I have Reid-like problems, but you get the idea). I figured I would tell you all about her YouTube channel Lindavids (she only has 28 subs and she deserves more). I appear in some videos if that helps. Check her out** ** _please_** **guys.**

 **I'm not sure how long this chapter was, but it feels pretty short to me. Sorry about that, but I wasn't even planning on doing another this weekend, so no complaints (not that any of you would complain anyway 3). Hope you enjoyed.**


	5. Trying

**his is going to be a pretty tame chapter, especially compared to the last one. He's going to start to look like he'll get better maybe for a chapter, a chapter and a half, but it won't last. This fic won't be over that quickly. Thanks for the read and please enjoy this calm before a storm. Thank you so much to nugnug for helping me. I do realise this isn't very realistic and I will try to improve on that without going back on anything I've written so far. I am so sorry this took so long to get out. I have no real excuses except I had a thesis essay to do all this time even though I wasn't working on it nonstop or anything. I have not abandoned this.**

Reid's sobs settled into calmer breathing until he let J.J. go.

"I need help. Please help me and don't let me refuse. I'm so weak..." Reid slipped away from J.J.'s reach and eased himself to lay on his couch, face down.

"Just tell me what you need and consider it done. We're all here for you." J.J. stayed where she was near the door, allowing Reid his personal space. He admitted to needing help, something he hadn't even done when he was using. J.J. hoped this wasn't worse than she thought it was for him.

"I've been mildly disassociative and highly self destructive but I don't know how to fix it. I had even convinced myself that nobody ever had or would care about me. That's why I told you not to tell anyone else. I was testing to see how much people cared about me based on whether or not they noticed what I was doing to myself. Morgan cared. Garcia cared. I convinced myself they didn't. Now you're caring, and I can't let myself lose that too... Am I going crazy?" He whimpered his last words, making unwanted connections between himself and his mother.

"No, you're not going crazy. Something just brought on what seems to me like a lot of self-doubt and a huge drop in how you view yourself. You know your problem, you're making perfect sense; you're not crazy." She assured the man who was looking more like a scared little boy curled up with a pillow on the couch.

"Thanks, J.J.." The boy stood slowly, but J.J. noticed him swaying and blinking, hands out to steady himself, nonetheless.

"Let's get you something to eat." She suggested, hoping to whatever might be up there that he would agree without much protest. There was a pause and J.J. thought she'd lost all of the progress she'd made in trying to get through to him.

He considered the proposal with his eyes closed, then agreed, "Okay. Okay, if you think it's a good idea. I'm trusting you."

J.J. nodded, "Do you have any food in the apartment?" She wasn't surprised when Reid shook his head. "That's okay. I'll assume you don't want to eat out, so how about we order something? I'll stay with you."

Reid nodded sheepishly, not exactly enjoying the motherly attention but also feeling some sense of care and belonging that he had been so desperately chasing. Maybe this was what he was after the whole time; getting someone to look after him.

J.J. ordered pizza and called Hotch to tell him that Reid was going to be fine, but she was staying with him. Her boss understood and relieved her for the day, though J.J. figured that was probably against some kind of code. Reid would probably know.

The two sat in a comfortable silence before Reid introduced his weak voice to the sounds of nothing:

"You know... It's funny. My memory hasn't been working like it normally does. I couldn't tell you what I did last night let alone recite a book. I feel like my head is stuffed full of cotton. I can't think. I'm worried because I'm enjoying the silence."

J.J. took advantage of the previous silence and waited before she contributed, "I don't think I need to tell you why I think your memory isn't perfect. You don't have enough energy to process things right now. The enjoyment? I don't doubt it. You're a genius with an eidetic memory; you're probably used to having thoughts and memories flying around in your head constantly. I'd enjoy the peace, too, but that doesn't mean you would prefer it in the long run to the brain you normally get to work with."

Reid nodded and silently established this to himself. He had to fix himself, somehow climb out of this hole he had dug. J.J. had tossed down a rope, and he was prepared to use it.

J.J. got the door that Reid hadn't noticed needed getting and brought in a box of pizza. It looked and smelled utterly unappetizing to Reid, but everything had recently been that way. He took a piece while J.J. stepped way to take a call that Reid assumed was from the team. He hoped he wouldn't be needed.

"You're on speaker, J.J.. How's it going?" Hotch asked in his official tone.

"I..." J.J. paused and spoke away from the phone. It sounded like she was asking permission to tell. "Reid is in pretty bad shape, but he's admitted he needs help and he's letting me do that."

"Alright. Is there anything we can do?" Hotch leaned tiredly on the desk but quickly straightened when eyes shifted from the phone to him.

"Just keep him in your hearts." J.J. said plainly.

"You make it sounds like he's dying." Morgan made it sound like a joke, though everyone knew he wasn't kidding around.

"Keep caring about him. He needs it. I have to go." The liaison hung up, leaving a team flooded with mixed emotions struggling for prevalence under a smothering blanket of uneasy tension.

When J.J. stepped back into the living room area, there was only three slices of pizza left in the box and Reid had fallen asleep on the sofa. She smiled to herself solemnly with a hint of coming happiness at Reid's peaceful face. Knowing he was resting and eating was good enough for her to take advantage of the only food in the apartment at that moment and have a slice of pizza for herself. She wanted to call the team back and let them know that she thought Reid was getting better, but that would probably require an explanation of what he was recovering from. Even she wasn't exactly sure of that, but she made a mental note to get him a psych eval when he felt up to it.

The anorexia she had suspected. The self-harm, and to the extent that Reid had engaged in it, was a surprise to her. It really made her think about how much people could be hiding and she would never know unless they let her in.

Reid had been granted the week off, which he used to shamelessly eat and sleep. Normally, even without intrusive thoughts about whether he deserved to even live let alone indulge, he would've felt bad about not doing anything productive. Reciting all of Star Wars through mouthfuls of chips was good enough for him if it was good enough for J.J..

By the end of the week, he almost felt like himself again. All of his self-inflicted wounds had scabbed over and some of the more shallow ones had even healed. He decided that it was a lot easier to gain weight than it was to lose it. Even when he hadn't eaten in over a week he managed to get himself back up to simply 'underweight' with only six and a half days. He had his suspicions that J.J. had told the team what was up with him, but now that it was over, he didn't particularly care unless it affected whether the team thought he could do his job or not.

That Monday when he woke up before dawn was the first time for a few days he started to seriously doubt himself, or rather, what anyone would think of him. He would say he got the flu. Of course, they would know he was lying. One could not simply lie to an FBI profiler and expect to get away with it. They would see his lie and have that be telling them that it was not okay to pry or discuss the subject further.

He dressed in his usual slacks, button up, and vest, feeling a sense of phoniness. Phony. The word always made him think of _Catcher in the Rye_. He felt phony, like he was trying to tell people somehow that nothing had changed just through the continuity of his wardrobe choices. Of course that was ridiculous, but Holden Caulfield was ridiculous.

He made himself two cups of coffee and promised himself a third when he arrived to work. He made sure that his sleeves would stay pulled down while he was working and left his apartment, which was still in desperate need of cleaning.

Reid followed the familiar movements of making his Nth cup of coffee at work, thankful not to have been approached with any probing-

"Spencer." Rossi caught his attention. Thought too soon.

"You never call me by my first name." Reid didn't face his co-worker. He was too busy dumping uncanny amounts of sugar into his coffee.

"You never miss a week of work." He fired back.

Reid sighed, "It was just a flu. I would've come-I wasn't incapacitated or anything-but I didn't want to get anyone else sick." He felt the lump rise in his throat that he couldn't control, and his eyes aimlessly darted down then back up again. He was such a horrible liar, even when he knew exactly what his tells were.

Rossi sighed doubtfully, "Okay. Well, we're glad you're back. We all split whatever paperwork of yours was pressing, but you have a pileup of non-detrimental work for you to get started on."

Reid turned finally to face his elder and look beyond him to his desk. Sure enough, it was piled high with stacks of paper and folders.

"Thanks, Rossi. I'll make up the extra work to you all eventually."

"Don't worry about it. We're a team; we cover for each other." Rossi winked and walked away. Reid didn't feel like deciphering the hidden meaning in Rossi's words, so he took his over sweetened coffee to his desk and began a tedious day of paperwork and being interrupted.

Only when he got home did he start to feel sick.

 **I was thinking of doing another fic after this one where instead of Reid losing weight he gained weight? Just because I like screwing with my favourite characters' physical appearances and it is not a kink thing** ** _I promise._** **Also because I noticed that there really aren't many out there for Reid gaining and I feel like it could logically happen. Tell me what you think about that idea and I'll decide later whether or not I want to do something like that. As always thanks for reading and no promises but I will try to start updating more regularly since my essay is done (but I do have finals coming up so there might be another break in continuity in a month or so).**


	6. Mother Dear

**Okay, nugnug, here is where I start to take your advice into careful consideration. I'm setting him up for a fall based on everything you've told me. Call this a relapse, if you will. The plan is to get a good look at everyone's reactions, not just those who I have been focusing on so far. Obviously some are more interesting than others and so those will be gone into in more depth and all these may take a couple of chapters. Oh and I forgot at he beginning of the last chapter: To the Guest who commented that Reid should have starved to death, you are incorrect.**

 **Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. I read all of them and I do sometimes reply. They mean a lot to me and are the reason I didn't abandon this fic as soon as I realised I would have to commit.**

A month and Reid looked better than he had the whole time he had worked at the BAU. The team couldn't help wondering what J.J. had done to provoke Reid's sudden interest in self-betterment. The young agent had even announced when he reached the 'average weight' point proudly and rather publicly with a smile that wouldn't allow even his haters (jealous agents, really) to shut him down.

On a case in Texas during a heat wave they had not failed to notice how reluctant Reid was to wear anything other than long sleeves, and that when he did roll them up there were not yet faded scars littering them. The key was that were fading, not being created. They decided with their hive mind not to confront him about anything; that he was in a better place.

That was, until their Las Vegas case.

Reid was being his usual talkative self, spewing facts that were either interesting and unneeded, or strange yet necessary, then the next thing anyone knew he was practically mute.

Hotch assumed something had happened with his mother. That was Reid's personal life and problem, but he did have the right to get involved if he saw it affecting Reid's work capabilities, which he did.

Hotch approached Reid with a little less of the authoritative confidence he usually held in his rigid posture in a vain attempt to appear more friendly.

"Are you feeling okay?" He briefly rested a hand on the younger agent's shoulder to snap his attention back into this three dimensional reality from where he was completely absorbed in a map and photographs.

"Yeah, fine." Reid blinked hard and shuddered slightly. "Sorry, just, I wasn't expecting to be touched."

Hotch nodded, taking that explanation for the shudder but not quite believing it, "Sorry. I was just making sure. You've been unusually quiet and I just want to make sure you aren't holding anything back from us."

Something in Reid's demeanor changed and he stiffened up as if guarding against something Hotch had said.

"I'm fine." Reid said coolly and turned back to examining the board.

The case lasted five days in all, and there was a mutual agreement to stay one extra day (since it was so late on the fifth anyway) so that Reid could visit his mom. Hotch wasn't sure that was such a good idea, but Reid seemed to want to, and so it was.

The hospital smelled nothing like the sterilizing chemicals and latex he had come to associate with the word. There lingered in the air, rather, a faint scent of flowers, undoubtedly from perfume, and freshly brewed coffee despite the time of day. It smelled strangely like a home, and Reid supposed it was to these people, to his mother. The home they had shared had been replaced, but at least it wasn't an unpleasant place. It was even arguably better than the places Reid had grown up in. Good for his mom for upgrading, while her son ignored his potential, a mistake he was constantly reminded of, and stayed in a dingy apartment where he was getting by on a government agent's salary.

The receptionist recognised Reid immediately with his unusual style and let him in without question, which drew Reid's mind into the corner of possibility where it would be so easy for someone to dress up as him and massacre these people as a hate crime of some sort.

"Spencer, what are you doing back here? Weren't you meant to leave yesterday?" Diana's concerned mother gaze took over and her face dropped into a worried frown. "They're not trying to keep you here, are they?"

Reid mustered up a smile and laugh of improbability, "No, no, I just have an extra day here so I thought I'd come see you again." There was a tension between them unnatural for mother and son. Reid was aware of it, though Diana was not privy to this change in atmosphere.

"Oh, good. I thought something happened." She relaxed back into her chair and gazed off into the distance, eyes eventually locking onto a powered off television.

"Actually," Reid placed himself carefully into the chair next to her, adjusting his messenger bag so he didn't sit on it. "I wanted to ask you... Do you remember what you said to me last time I was here?"

Diana was unresponsive for a while to the point that Reid thought to repeat himself, but she cocked her head in thought and turned back to him, "No."

Reid sighed, though he didn't think she would remember anyway. She had been out of it.

"You, uh... You told me that I looked like I should lose weight?" He choked down a lump in his throat.

"Did I?" Diana couldn't grasp the implications of his accusation. "Oh, well, I'll take your word for it. You always did have such an impressive memory. I remember how you used to recite my favourite poems to me..." Her mind drifted off down memory lane, but Reid picked her up and gave her a ride back to reality, so far unsatisfied with her response.

"But do you agree with yourself?" He implored.

Diana considered this, him. Reid shifted under her steady gaze.

She shrugged, "I guess I do. But don't listen to me; I'm in here for a reason."

As good a point as she did make, he couldn't shake that. It was one thing for her to comment on things out of the blue in the state she was in last time (seeing her in which was upsetting enough) but another for her to sanely suggest what she had.

Reid nodded nonetheless, "Okay. Good to know."

"That's the only reason you came here, isn't it?" Diana tilted her head thoughtfully and knowingly the way a mother does when she suspects something that is obviously true.

Reid smiled a little, "You know children acquire around 75% of their natural intelligence from the mother."

Diana smiled and leaned on her fist, elbow balanced on the couch armrest, "You must be an anomaly."

The two shared a moment of peaceful uncaring and mutual smiles before Diana looked down to toss away her smile and initiate a more business-like mood. "Well, you have no more reason to stay here. I'll let you go. You're very busy, I'm sure."

Reid actually had nothing to do. He might just as well be in a casino as with his mother or his team right now, she didn't need to know that. "Yeah, I really should go. Uh, thanks." He fumbled to standing and adjusted his bag , hair, and tie before his feet would carry him away.

"Oh, Spencer!" His attention was grabbed back by his mother's call. that was one thing he couldn't ignore. He would be there for her whether she needed CPR or a smile, no matter what.

"Yeah, mom?" He offered himself.

"Don't think to much about anything I've said. Don't worry about how you look, really. It's not worth it."

Reid nodded slightly upwards with pressed lips in a makeshift smile and raised eyebrows that seemed to be doing all the work in pulling his head up for the nod. In one swift move, he let his expression drop and turned away on his heels, gliding with prompt strides out of the building.

The team wasn't all that surprised with Reid's quick return after Hotch had started a kind of Reid-centric conspiracy discussion. Most disagreed with the morality and ethics of such a discussion, but recently Reid had been a point of focused consternation. It felt warranted to keep an eye on the baby of the BAU family and discuss what was needed. It wasn't meant to take such a fictional turn.

With such close inspection it's a wonder no one noticed when Reid dipped unannounced back into the realm of 'underweight'.

 **Okay so it's a bit meh but it's a chapter. Sorry it's so short-it's kind of a filler. I would've done more but I have my last choir thing of the year tonight so I don't really have time to go to that, do my other homework, and write an acceptably good chapter. I thought this got some things out of the way, plus I like Diana so I wanted to include her. Does anyone really read these notes? if so please please (tell me that you do and) let me know if there's anything you noticed with character actions or speech patterns that I need to fix to be more accurate. Writing book fics is easier than TV fics in my opinion. Thanks! I appreciate you all :)**


	7. Binge

**I am glad that at least one person has read my notes. Thanks for that. I'm not really sure where this chapter will go, but I expect to do a lot of skipping forward to accelerate the timeline and keep it realistic. If you have any thoughts about how this should end please review so I can start working towards that. Same thing if you have any scenes you really want to see happen. No shame if it's totally weird; I'm the one writing it anyway. Please enjoy and if you don't then let me know what sucked. Nugnug, please tell me how I do and how I can improve.**

Reid didn't care anymore. He was well aware that forbidding himself from eating was not good for him, but he wanted to be rid of the extra weight he was carrying around as quickly as possible. He assumed nobody had questioned his thinning frame because he was simply reverting back to normal at that point. Now, he was monitoring his calorie intake strictly, including with drinks. No more than 200 a day, and even that seemed high. If he went over that he would punish himself with one cut per ten calories over. That soon grew with more thought given to it to a one-to-one ration rather than one-to-ten, and the limit was lowered to 100 a day. That only allowed for one cup of coffee without sugar, and he still had to cut himself a few times after that. Whatever worked, he told himself.

After only two days he felt ready to collapse. He attributed it to the lack of caffeine and saw this as getting over an addiction. Once that mindset had been established, he kicked the coffee altogether. By day five he had begun refusing everything, substituting water in for every meal. It kept him alive, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it. He was having surprising trouble with breathing. He'd expected the shakiness, dizziness, general weakness that came with starvation, but his lungs seemed just as tired as he was. His brain with just little use was getting fatigued so he had to stop and let it go blank. It wasn't a peaceful blank, more like a hole that had been drilled into his head so wide that it only left a massive empty space.

Reid was just trying to get his mind and eyes to focus on a paper when J.J. glided over to his chair in a rolly one of her own.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?" She asked when she caught eye of his squinted shut eyes. He swayed slightly.

 _No, I'm fine._ He thought. "No, I'm not." He said.

J.J. furrowed her brow and slid closer, dropping whatever playfulness she had borne in her manner before. "I can drive you home if you-"

Reid shook his head but noticed quickly how much more the room gyrated after the action. He raised a shaky hand to his head and held the bridge of his nose, "I mean... I meant 'I'm fine.' Sorry. Thanks. What's happening?"

"Meeting-we have a case-but you really don't look up for going anywhere right now."

"I'm fine, I said." Reid pushed himself up out of his chair. The world tipped upside down and then in circles, then clouded black around the edges. Reid stumbled and swayed, trying quickly to blink the blackness out of his eyes. It fully inhabited his vision and in a brief moment of clarity he was sure he was blacking out.

Much to his surprise, he didn't wake up in a hospital or anything like that. He was in the chair he last remembered standing up from with everyone, _everyone_ , not just his team, crowded around him.

Immediately he announced, "I'm fine."

At Reid's awakening, Hotch shooed bystanding workers out of the vicinity so her could personally get a better look at Reid.

"I know you know, so can you tell me why you passed out?" He asked sternly but with the underlying care of a parent.

"I didn't expect to... I stopped drinking coffee and I didn't balance that out with sleep. I really need caffeine apparently." It took all of his focused effort to form coherent sentenced for his boss.

"Or sleep. Take the rest of the day off and _rest_. Morgan, drive him home."

Morgan nodded silently at his order, which was more of a privilege to him, and started going through the list of symptoms of caffeine withdrawal in his head. He was already thinking it would be a good idea for him to stay with Reid for a little while, or for Reid to stay with him. As unstable as he was it would be a bad idea for him to be alone for too long.

Reid looked to Morgan and was aware of his distracted gaze for the second it lasted. He hated to be a bother, but he did really want to go home and he knew he wouldn't be able to drive himself. There was always public transportation, but he could pass out again and end up being driven to the hospital, and then they would tell his team that he has anorexia and he would have to go to rehab or something. No, no. Bad. Morgan, good.

"Thanks." Reid croaked out, aware suddenly of both his persistent onlookers and his shaking body. He pushed himself up and managed to a standing position with some assistance and the expectation of the intense dizziness he would feel. He grasped blindly and found a shoulder to hold so he wouldn't fall over.

Prentiss caught Reid with his hand on her shoulder. His weight shifted from leaning against her to pulling her to the floor with him. She couldn't imagine how he might be seeing the world at this moment to be noticeably swaying so heartily.

Morgan intervened slowly to take Reid from Prentiss, supporting his small frame with his muscled one. It took some effort to get him downstairs, out of the building, and into the car, and even by then the dizziness had barely begun to subside.

Morgan started the car and buckled Reid into the passenger seat; he was too disoriented to do it himself or to even realise he had to.

"What's really wrong?" Morgan asked. His voice after a period of long relative silence was enough to snap Reid mostly out of the fog of confusion he had moved into.

Reid heard the words but didn't quite understand. He muttered to himself, "Sleep is all."

"I don't think this is all sleep deprivation." Morgan prompted. He had noticed Reid's weight fluctuations in the last month or so, but he hated that it took him as long as it did to figure out. It wasn't even his weight that gave it away, it was his confused gaze and shaking hands that Morgan picked up on. After that, he looked closer and found that Reid had gone back to how he was before he had gained weight. That wasn't a big deal-return to normal, for him-but fainting because of it made it everyone's problem.

Reid didn't respond other than a faint, "I'm sorry."

Morgan sighed and rubbed his eyes at a red light, "Reid, do you have anorexia?"

The last word echoed through his head. It made sense. He nodded, "Yeah, but don't worry."

"We're going to my place and you're going to eat something." Morgan decided with the power of kings, thrusting that power upon the wheel with the words of decision and tracing a U on the street to change course.

Reid didn't exactly notice what was happening. He had retreated into his mind and was enjoying the strange phrases it was concocting. He felt in a dream-like state and wanted to remain here forever, however unpleasant the interludes. They stopped moving and Reid fell back into clarity, despising every nanosecond of the time he spent there. Without his approval, the thought to kill himself like this appealed to him and almost overrode the self-preservation instinct. He was vaguely aware of hands helping him to somewhere, but whenever he tried to focus on the world, his thoughts shifted either back to nothing or along the lines of sweet death.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." He spoke quietly.

"Huh?" Morgan didn't here him, and Reid was not about to repeat himself.

"Can you hear me?" Reid nodded to Morgan's question, humanity and language allowing this communication to puncture the haze that surrounded him. "Have you had anything to drink today? Not alcoholic, I mean, but any liquids."

Reid thought, once again registering his shaking, and added to the sensation by shaking his head 'no'.

"Alright, then some of this is probably dehydration." Morgan thought aloud.

He led Reid inside and left him on the couch, bringing him a glass of water quickly so he wasn't away from Reid for too long. Reid gulped it down in three seconds flat, then leaned over sideways, head on the pillow, and closed his eyes.

Morgan weighed his options of making him get up to eat and letting him get some sleep. Eventually, his compromise was to make Reid a sandwich and put it on the coffee table in front of him for when we woke up. Though he doubted Reid would eat it, it was something, at least. Just as he had made the decision to stay with Reid for the rest of the day, Morgan's phone rang. Hotch's urgent voice urged him back "quickly, we're already a man down", and Morgan's moral obligations were for the greater good. He paused in the living room standing, Reid's small form curled up on the sofa below him, and reached down, ruffling the kid's hair caringly before he jogged out the door to his car.

 ** _Later..._**

Reid woke up slowly, wondering with a feeling dissociation where he was and why he couldn't remember. He had the vague feeling that he had just woken up from a day-long dream, but that it had actually occurred.

The first thing he noticed was the sandwich on the table before him. He shunned it quickly in an attempt to avoid the temptation. It was too late. He had been prodded by the lit stick of temptation before, and every time he was the tip seemed to have grown hotter with his denial.

The second thing he noticed was where he was. Morgan had brought him to his house. How nice. Reid hoped he hadn't been a burden. It occurred to him that he was missing work, and that he didn't really care. The thing he least wanted to do right now was think, especially not about such complex things as how others think.

His hands reached for the sandwich and he faintly wondered why he was working for the FBI in the first place. He wondered why he was working. He could just as easily be laying on the streets as he could be laying in this room. Who needed work anyway? Work was only to support life with money, and what is he was dead? Then he really wouldn't need to work. _Symptoms of caffeine withdrawal include depression, confusion, dizziness..._ He remembered that he had told a lie about that, meaning it to be a lie, but realisation struck that it was most certainly the truth.

He put down the empty napkin which once held the sandwich Morgan had made for him. What he had done immediately registered. No, no, no, no, no! He couldn't eat. He was too fat to eat. But, God, it was too late. What was the point anymore? His body stood up without conscious permission, acting on some subconscious decision to go into the kitchen. There was so much food here. Food that Reid was supposed to _not eat_. Oops.

It was a blur. The more he ate the hungrier he got and the more he hated himself for doing what he was doing. He told himself to stop, even spoke it out loud between mouthfuls. He didn't stop until there was nothing left in the house to eat. Overwhelming guilt took it's turn in eating him. Not only had he thrown away everything he had been working for, he had literally eaten _everything in Morgan's house. **Morgan's. House.**_ This wasn't even his stuff to take advantage of. Morgan would hate him now.

He curled up in a bloated ball of shame against some cupboards and cried silently. He would not let this happen again. Never again.

He already knew that wasn't true.

 **Heyyo! So I may have overdone a lot of things in this chapter but I think it went okay. Nugnug mentioned binge so I give you binge. This chapter was written over the course of three days so I apologise if there are any continuity errors. I could read it over but I'm just too lazy for that. If you have any idea of how you want this to end, please tell me your thoughts. I'm working off of a checklist of key events that need to happen but I have no end in mind. I'm open to anything from him killing himself to quitting his job to going to rehab to working it out on his own. Anything. Thank you as always for reading and I appreciate whatever reviews you want to leave.**


	8. High and Low

**I got a lot of reviews on that last chapter. Much thanks, all, much thanks. I have begun to think of how this will all end up, and there is a shitstorm to come, don't you fret. Tell me how you think about some subtle Emo!Reid (think emo trinity of music type emo). This is probably going to be a short chapter. I'm only writing now to put off homework. I have a chem test tomorrow but PPPSSHHTTT fanfiction is more important. I'll have fun explaining that to my professor when I get an F. You're welcome.**

Reid was startled out of his self-loathing session with the ringing of Morgan's home phone. He lifted his face from his knees to see that the sun was beginning to set. That had been a longer wallowing-in-depression than he thought it was.

Without thinking-as if that hadn't got him into enough trouble already-he got up and answered the phone. He was vaguely aware of having to pee.

"Mhmm?" He answered the phone carelessly. He had already screwed up just as much as any one person could.

"Reid! My darling! You are really terrible at answering other people's phones. How are you?" Garcia's quick speaking pace was the only thing tipping Reid of about how worried she was.

"I'm fine." Reid lied.

"I wanted to call sooner but Morgan said that you were sleeping and I shouldn't wake you up. I figured it had been long enough that you'd be awake. i thought you got better, but anorexia again? You need to talk to someone about this. You should get some real help. You need help, honey, and it's okay because I want to help you and I know there are so many other people who want to help you too if you would just listen and-"

Reid got the idea. He zoned out. He hated hearing the word 'help'. He would never need help. Not like that. Not how his mom needed help.

He acknowledged that he did, however, require some assistance.

"Thanks, Garcia." He said when her voice stopped. It started again, no doubt assuring him that it was okay to ask for help. He rolled his eyes and hoped she wasn't one of those people who could read body language through the phone. He was really tempted to just hang up on her.

Actually...

 _Beep._

Now that that was over, he would get back to his self pity and to trying to figure out what to tell Morgan.

The phone rang again. As much as he didn't want to answer it, he had been in the FBI for long enough to know what an abrupt hang-up and failing to pick up again meant.

He answered with "Sorry, I pushed a button and didn't know what I did."

"Okay, listen. Please listen, don't just zone out like I know you were doing. We all care about you, and you are very skinny. I think one of those things was something you wanted to hear." She hung up before Reid could respond.

He looked down at himself. Sure, people cared, maybe, but he wasn't skinny. He just wasn't. Even his own mother thought so. And of course Garcia would think he was skinny. She probably thought everyone was skinny. Maybe she was the one who needed to be anorexic.

As soon as those thoughts entered his head he slapped them out. He slapped himself _hard_ across the face, but it didn't seem to do anything. He hit himself again. Then again, again and again until he was nearly ripping his hair out hitting himself. A perfect vision of his mother. That realization only made things worse. He had never understood why Diana did these things. Why she would scream and hit and chant. Now he knew.

He screamed until his voice grew too hoarse to protest, flailed until his arms grew fatigued and weighed down like they were made of lead. He sat on the floor, arms dangling between his legs and head drooped between them. He thought _I just did that._ And he couldn't help overlaying what he assumed he looked like onto a memory of his mom.

Not the sun finally setting, nor the keys in the door, nor the opening of the door and the sudden comparatively blinding unnatural light he was subject to pulled him out of his mind.

"Reid. Reid. Reid? Are you okay?" He heard Morgan drop his things by the door and run to him.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't mean to." Reid kept his head down, now in resurfacing shame. There was a pause as Morgan looked around his kitchen and noticed what was missing. There was a lot not there.

"I don't mind, kid, really." He tried to keep his tone casual, but it was difficult. One one hand, Reid had eaten, which was very good. On the other, he had eaten everything. Not so good.

"Can you... No, I'll catch the bus. Never mind. Thanks. Sorry. Thank you." He quickly stood and pushed his way past Morgan as fast as he could out the door that had been left open. He craved the feeling of a blade on his skin. Suddenly it dominated his thoughts. He couldn't focus on the real world, only on the image so vivid from both memory and imagination in his mind of those red lines tracing his wrists and thighs in stark contrast to the white around them. It had been a long time since he had even considered it, but now the urge was bordering on debilitating. _Relapse_ , he thought, _oh well_.

He couldn't sit on the bus. He paced the aisle, and when he was told to sit down, flashed his badge. Not that being in the FBI had anything to do with taking a seat, but it gave him authority over everyone else aboard. The driver even took him off-route directly to his apartment building.

He raced upstairs in through his door only to find that the feeling had subsided. There was nothing left to fill the void that the mere thought of cutting had filled. He had nothing.

Work, he reminded himself, he had work?

But what was the damn point of that? What did hr care anyway?

He knew this feeling. This was something familiar that he had prepared for happening again, even expected. He pulled out a dingy binder from under his sofa and opened it, taking his time to look through and remember every detail. The cases he had helped to solve. The people he had saved. The people who could have been lost. His job was important, he knew that, only forgot it sometimes. There was an easy cure for that.

The binder filled him where he had been empty from lack of loathing with a new sense that he had since it was last felt grown weary from missing. A hope and a happiness had him locked in. A faint smile tugged at his lips. He didn't dare think of anything else that might put a damper on his mood. The word _bipolar_ pushed into the corners of his mind, but he shooed it away like the pesky fear it was.

He took a shower and didn't give his razor a second glance, dressed in new pajamas (that were slightly too big for him so that he had to tug up the pants every once in a while), and made a grocery list, short though it was. He was well aware that this miraculous good mood wouldn't last. He only wanted to remind himself that things could return to normal, how they had been for so long. It was true that after a lowest low, there must be a high, he concluded, and therefore after the high must be a low.

His phone rang.

 **Cliffhanger! Or at least I meant it to be one. I base a lot of the things Reid experiences off of things I have felt, and personally when I have low lows I get back up after some good old-fashioned wallowing. If that didn't seem like a thing that would happen here then there is your 'why I did it'. I did intentionally directly compare him to Diana so please don't overlook that (not that you would) and sorry if my writing style seems like it's bipolar-it changes based on what subject I'm working on and I wrote this between doing chemistry and english. Thank you for the read, reviews are amazing, etc. Read that as an enthusiastic etc., not so much the bored ones you hear. I often respond to reviews and I take into consideration anything you guys suggest!**


	9. The Pressure is On

**That was a popular last chapter. I will try not to disappoint with this one. This will also probably be a rather short one and I'm hoping to make things a little more pressured for Reid in this one. I got 100% on a trig test so I'm writing/posting my second chapter in two days to celebrate. Everybody say "Thank you, Mr. Schwartzberg!" He is the reason Reid gets to be unfrozen in this fic world.**

His phone rang.

Not sure what to expect from-he checked-Hotch, he took the phone precariously in his hand and felt his pulse in his grip.

"Hotch, hello." He said as calmly as possible. He couldn't help thinking that he would somehow be getting in trouble for loosing consciousness on the job.

"I wanted to check in with you to make sure you were okay. Sorry, I know it's late." He sounded like a father, not a boss.

"I'm doing better, thanks. I needed the day to..." He couldn't think of what he had done. Reid heard Hotch nodding on the other end of the call.

"I also wanted to warn you ahead of time; the six-month physical is a week from tomorrow. The requirements are on the website."

"I don't have a computer." Reid said, feeling a little silly. Stupid. No! Fine.

"Right, of course you don't." Hotch paused before he spoke again, "How tall are you?"

"Six feet, zero point eight three inches."

"So six one." Hotch said exasperatedly through secret feelings of gladness that Reid was feeling alright enough to give such a precise number. "Minimum weight for your height is 152 pounds and I don't think the maximum will be a problem for you. You've clocked enough field hours that you won't need to take an active physical, but I would recommend you fix the one thing the Bureau will be looking at. There's also drug testing but I trust you won't need to prepare especially for that."

Reid's heartbeat choked him, "Okay. Thanks."

"We're all worried about you. Test aside, please take care of yourself." The genuine concern in his voice startled Reid. Hotch had hung up before he was able to formulate a response.

Fact: He could not lose his job. Fact: He sure would if he didn't get himself together.

His bathroom scale had been moved to under his bed so it couldn't stare at him accusingly. How he required this accusation. He pulled it from its hiding spot, feeling guilty that he had move it there anyway, and stood. He winced as it creaked under him. So apparently he had to gain thirty-one pounds in a week. He knew full well that wasn't going to happen, but he thought to at least try. It sounded horrible, the thought of intentionally eating to gain weight. He imagined eating like he had done today for a whole week and shuddered, gagging, involuntarily.

He was annoyed with the persistence of his good mood telling him not to worry. There was a layer of panic that was present yet subdued by this lasting calm preventing him from acting on anything. It felt like he needed to punch something, but he was too tired to do so.

He sighed and thought of something to do. Assuming he would lose his job, now was as good a time as any to count up how much cash he had left to survive on without help from the bank. He always kept 35% of each paycheck as cash ever since he got his job with the BAU. The envelope was calming in his hands-something uniform.

To his delighted surprise, he had managed to accumulate $36,422 in cash. ***1** His first thought was to buy a computer. It seemed like a logical though impulsive buy if he were to...

He called Garcia.

"What do you need my precious genius baby?" She answered enthusiastically.

"How much do computers cost?" He wasn't in the slightest bit ashamed that he didn't know this fact, but by Garcia's silence, he should've been.

"Well," She eventually managed, "That depends on the computer."

"The cheapest."

"I'm sure you could get one for less than three hundred. Do you want me to check?" ***2**

"Please." Reid imagined himself with a computer. It would probably burst into flames. He had never been technologically savvy, even as a child.

"Might I ask what spurred this sudden interest?" Garcia asked over the faint sound of clicking keys.

"Hotch forgot that I didn't own a computer and said something pertaining to it. I thought to count my cash and see if I could afford one, but then I realised I didn't know what they would cost."

"Well, I found one for five dollars, but that seems like a very bad idea. And... Oh! Here's a little laptop for $99?"

After little further discussion, Reid was expecting a $99 laptop at his door in a few days. He hung up on the conversation before the subject could be twisted and plonked himself down on his couch. Why had he done that again? Because why not. Because he was feeling reckless with his money. Because he didn't think he would be around long enough to feel the consequences of his actions. He didn't know the origins nor the true meaning of that innocent thought. It was ignored.

He went to bed around midnight ***3** , feeling unreasonably tired from a day of doing nothing. He got a solid five hours of sleep before it was time to get up for work. He considered getting coffee but figured he would be better off without rebooting his caffeine addiction. Then he made some anyway.

He still had some food-mostly stale, expired things-in his cupboards, which he ate. He felt confident enough to drive himself to work and not worry that he crash. It was a good morning, all in all. An encouraging morning.

It was obvious that everyone knew every detail of what Reid had been doing as of late. That sucked the encouragement from him. There were the little smiles from strangers that attempted to provide what they stole, but the worst looks came from those he knew. Garcia was out of her lair and looking right at him, waiting for him to come over. Tough luck. If she wanted to bother him, she would have to make the effort.

Reid went straight for his desk. It took less than a minute for a meeting to be called.

Reid in all his selfishness assumed it would be about him. He held his shame inside as a case briefing went on.

He had intentionally been last in for the briefing so nobody had the time to talk to him. After, he was pulled back into the room before he could leave by Morgan.

"Sorry about yesterday." Was Reid's immediate response to Morgan's hand on his arm. His fingers could wrap completely around Reid's bicep.

"Don't worry about it. Have you eaten since then?" Reid nodded. "Good."

"I could lose my job if I don't get better." Reid explained simply.

"You should want to get better for yourself."

"Don't push it. Nearly starving to death is a hobby." Reid smirked.

"I hope you're joking." Morgan said and Reid noticed Morgan's arm had moved around his shoulders. He shrugged it off.

"I am. I don't feel like dying. It seems pretty shitty."

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before." Morgan was amused.

Reid shrugged and took that comment as his cue to leave. He had the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he got when he told a blatant lie.

He went and knocked on Hotch's office door and waited a second before entering. "Hotch?"

"Mhmm?" Hotch pretended to be uninterested, but Reid saw him perk up, ready to collect whatever information Reid might hint at.

"I was just... I thought it would be a good idea to get your explicit consent before I prepared to go on this case." Reid fidgeted by the door.

"You have my explicitly stated consent. If I didn't want you going I would've told you to stay behind. Thank you for asking. I think I've given you enough of a reason to take better care of yourself, and if we're on a case together I can keep an eye on you. Twenty-five minutes now." He updated his 'wheels-up' time last.

To Montana they went, and Reid was already regretting not asking to stay behind.

 **So I've decided to show you where I get my information and things I want you to notice through a reference system:**

 ***1 -** **/va/quantico/salary/fbi-bau-salary : I multiplied the average annual salary by two for his two years at this point of working there and then took 35% of that total. I didn't want to divide by twelve, take 35% of each month individually and add.**

 ***2 - I checked with Google but included Quantico as an address.**

 ***3 - Reid is canonically an early bird who generally gets a pretty reasonable amount of sleep, taken from a conversation he had with Rossi.**

 **So this chapter is only slightly longer than the last, but hey, school night. If you really hate the reference thing let me know and I'll stop it. If you really like it, also let me know so I know to continue. There is a reason for the computer, but it's not essential to the plot. Just a little thing I really wanted to throw in that requires he have something that can access the internet. No, not porn. And there is significance in Reid swearing. That sub-whatever shall develop slowly. I'm writing as things enter my mind, so some points might be abandoned, changed, or expanded on later depending on what fits. Thanks for the read. I appreciate you all. _PM me if you just want to say 'hi' or talk about anything with a stranger._**


	10. Garcia

**DOUBLE DIGITS! Chapter 10 has come so fast for me, I don't know about you guys. I have a good idea of where this fic is going and how it's going to end up. Sorry I was gone for a while but I'm back now. I get busy sometimes. Other times, I find new video games. I'm incorporating more than** ** _just_** **ED!Reid because there's gotta be some depressing dynamics to this thing, if you know what I mean. This concept has taken over my thoughts. Seriously, it is the only thing I can think about, which is not healthy. If I take a break for a while, it's for the benefit of my own sanity. I can't say it enough: Reviews make my day so** ** _please_** **if you have something to say then do say it. He says the f-word so if that offends you sorry.**

 **The chapter is now finished! Sorry about that.**

Reid had had quite enough of being hovered over. He was bring good; eating, sleeping, staying focused. It was just his luck that as soon as they thought they solved the case, another loose end popped up and they had to stay longer. He wanted nothing more than to get this nightmare over with. His team wasn't the nightmare, it was the case. It made him sick. He was weaker to these kinds of things now, he noticed. At least Prentiss also seemed more affected than usual by the raping and dismemberment of babies that were force feed to their mothers then cut out of their stomachs'. He couldn't stand the pictures any more than the thought. That guy had been hell to track down, and now murders were appearing suggesting he had a partner now doing something similar but with pets and fathers in the same area.

He knew the team had noticed his sensitivity and mentally thanked them for not bringing it up. Now it was time to hope they would continue to not bring things up. This case, when the partner became apparent, was the single most important thing in his life. For about 30 hours he didn't sleep or eat, and he didn't care if it could save lives. He had done things like this before, of course, especially on time-sensitive cases like this. This was the first time he was bombarded with chiding.

He felt like a child. He was being treated like a child. ***1** Sure, it was nice to be cared for, but this was babying and he hated it. They wouldn't stop.

When they finally discovered an apprentice as the guy's partner, they headed back immediately. Reid didn't show up to work the next day. It was a Sunday, so it wasn't a _huge_ deal-people took weekends off as a normal thing. It was only worrying because for his team it was customary to show up to work at least the one day after coming back from a case to discuss and get some paperwork done. He wasn't surprised to hear a knocking on the door after the normal work hours had passed.

He took his time in opening it and was met with the ever-smiling face of Garcia.

"Hey, sweetie, I just thought I'd stop by to see you. You know I miss you guys after long cases."

This improved Reid's mood greatly. He'd thought he needed to be alone after so long of having to act socially acceptable, but man was her smile comforting.

"I know, I'm sorry. I was just really tired. I barely slept those last few days." He gestured to welcome her in, the motion not seeming to fit when the welcoming was into such a small, dingy place like his. He connected that gesture with a grand mansion, doors swinging as they flew open with the motion of the master's hand. That was not him.

"Did you get some sleep today?" Garcia asked being motherly but not unnaturally so. Reid nodded obediently. "Then I forgive you for not coming to say 'hi' to me today."

"Oh, thank God. I don't think I would've been able to carry on knowing that I had committed such a treason unexcused." He feigned despair.

Garcia took it like it was and giggled, not reading too into it like the rest of the team might.

"Actually," Reid said, "I'm glad you're here. I got the computer and I am more or less confused."

"I'll assume more. Where is it?" Garcia offered, already starting to look by glancing around the room.

Reid led her to it while he spoke, "I know more about technology than people give me credit for. I can use it functionally... It's just..."

"Just that you can't." Garcia finished.

"Might I remind you; MIT. I can use a computer."

"Oh, I'll just go then." She spoke over dramatically with a fluffy actress-like voice, nose in the air as she threatened to leave.

"No, no, no!" Reid grinned a grin that reached from his face to his soul. He couldn't remember feeling so liberated with another person. Couldn't think of a time when he had had real fun like this. He could no longer trust his memory. It seemed that the older memories were starting to fade, though he could still recite back anything he had seen, read, or heard in the last ten years or so. Before that, things were disappearing and changing. Was he already hitting the low after the high? "No, don't go. I do need you. And I enjoy your company."

Garcia smiled victoriously with a smug tip of her chin, "It's good to know I'm needed somewhere."

"As if we don't count on you enough as a team."

Garcia paused and looked up from her examination of the sorry excuse for a computer, "That actually means a lot to me, jokes aside. Thanks." And she got back to work. Reid had never thought of Garcia as underappreciated-he appreciated her and he knew everyone else did just as much as him-but now that she thought about it she was kind of an outsider. She didn't go on trips with them and most of the time was just a voice over the phone. Underappreciated by people outside of the FBI, she certainly was.

"Sure thing. I mean it." He smiled.

They shared the moment and let it linger while Reid made his way to stand nearer Garcia so he could see.

"I can't really use a computer."

"I know."

"What spurred this sudden need for technology in your otherwise stone-age home?" Garcia said, finishing up on everything that was unneeded according to Reid but absolutely necessary according to 'the expert'.

Reid shrugged, "Not really sure. I'll figure it out soon enough."

"I bet you'll turn it on about once every three months, and only because you'll feel bad about not using it."

"That's probably not far off."

He suddenly figured it out-he did this so he could stop being a special burden. It was so easy to send pictures and reports, link, alerts, to the others, but not him. This was his first step to making it easier on them. Was it? Really? When he didn't think he would keep his job at all, would his subconscious really make him do this for that sake? Or was it to give them less of a reason to fire him.

"What's goin' on in there, hun?" Garcia watched Reid expectantly, "You were staring off." ***2**

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering what I _am_ going to do with this lump of tech now."

Garcia giggled and stood from the old chair Reid had provided, "I would suggest for you... reading everything on the internet. What good is an eidetic memory if there are things you don't know?"

Reid gave a confused smirk, "Um, a lot of good, actually?" She did have a point. At least, in the first part of the sentence.

"I know, Boy Genius, I was joking." She smiled and collected her things. Reid didn't stop her. She said her goodbye. Reid nodded and waved too late as the door was closing.

Overcome with the notion that he hadn't done so in over two hours, he went and weighed himself. Still not up to par with code. What did he expect?

And how long did he have? Oh, wait... it was the week they were gone. Reid grinned with glee for having avoided that deadline, though he knew there would be another. He didn't want to ruin his good mood by putting food in his stomach. A day with nothing wouldn't make too much of a difference. He was allowed to be happy just for a day. And not eating for the last little while on the case? That didn't count. Nothing he did in terms of personal health counted while he was on a case. It seemed like a psychological rule. When he was out helping people, he didn't have to help himself.

He sat at the computer and stared at it. He couldn't think of a thing to do on it. What a waste. He closed it and decided to re-watch every Star Wars movie. He was tired but didn't want to sleep when he finished, so instead he re-watched Doctor Who until it was time to go to work. He was still tired, but no more tired than he was ten hours ago. Coffee was important nonetheless.

The drive went slow because of traffic despite seven o'clock being too early for a lot of people. Reid would hate to drive through a 'rush hour' hour.

His phone rang conveniently when he was stopped at a light. It was Hotch.

Reid answered with, "I am coming in today. It's a Monday."

"I figured you would be. I'm letting you know before you get here that your make up physical is scheduled for today at one. I couldn't get it any later."

"Fuck."

"Reid!"

"Sorry. Thank you. I have to go. I'm driving." He hung up and continued waiting at the light.

 ***1- My reasoning for including this so explicitly is to draw attention to the fact that he is the youngest and will therefore always be the baby of the team, and it's not fun to be the baby. It comes with an automatic sense of less-ness and warrants any disrespect someone might want to show you. Reid has these underlying feelings, according to me.**

 ***2- Usually in writing, character's thoughts don't take up time in the world of the narrative. I had it take time here to show Reid's thoughts slowing down, which is something I noticed in depression (personally, I don't know if it's clinical fact). Those few lines of his thought took him enough time to think that Garcia was waiting for him outside of his head. Consider that.**

 **This chapter took a really long time and I am so sorry for that. I know exactly where I want this fic to go from here, so I'm not worried about the creative flow, only my lack of time. Tonight I get to sit in the gym for five and a half hours so I will have plenty of time to start doing some chapters ahead of time. I also _really really want to write one where Reid is the Doctor_. So I will do that. Because I can. That might exist by Saturday the 20th. Can't wait. Thank you, thank you, for reading all the way this far and also for reading my notes. I love you all equally (for the most part).**


	11. Eidetic Fail

**My period of being super busy is just about over! It turns out I lied about getting a bunch of chapters written ahead of time. Instead of doing that, I just started a new fic, as if I don't have enough to do already *manic, sleep deprived laughter*. Despite Ramadan (I am sorry) there is more than the usual amount of swearing in this chapter which I needed to write because it is a thing that needed to happen. If it provides any comfort to whoever might be reading this and celebrating I did wait until after sundown and I didn't say anything out loud.**

Prentiss had to do a double take when she saw Reid walk through the doors that morning. His eyes were trained to just above the floor, unblinking, and he was holding his coffee with elbow bent mechanically at ninety degrees perfectly straight in front of him, feet barely lifting from the floor. Without moving her eyes from him she clumsily get up from her desk to go see him where he had stopped moving just inside. He looked like he was in shock.

"Reid. Reid, are you okay? What happened?" She moved herself right in front of his face in an attempt to break his gaze, but his eyes stayed where they were, concentrated on anything.

Surprisingly, he responded monotonously, "I'm going to be fired. This is going to be my last day. I'm done for. I'm done."

Prentiss searched his stoic face for clued but found none, "Why do you think that?" She placed a hand on his back and shoulder and guided him to his own desk.

"I have to take the physical. I can't. I've already failed. I've already failed." He practically fell into his chair, nothing but his knees to bend moving.

"You've gotten physicals waved before, haven't you? Didn't you say that when you were first hired you failed every physical but they brought you in anyway? If I were to guess, I'd say that would happen again. You've proved your usefulness and intelligence. Everyone knows we need you." Prentiss sat on the corner of his desk, appealing to the logical side that always was more of a comfort to Reid than emotional assurance.

"Hotch made this one sound important. And the things I failed last time weren't weight requirements, they were stupid things like push-ups and miles. This time it actually matters. The one time it matters I've fucked up." Before Prentiss could respond, Reid snapped out of his trance and jumped up, throwing his thankfully empty cup across the room with something only describable as rage that she had never seen on him before and he shouted " _I am such a fuck up!_ "

Prentiss was too startled to move.

"Reid. My office. Now." Hotch glared from just outside his door, worry invisible because of the distance growing behind his presented anger.

Reid ghosted through the silence of the room, eyes delving into him. He shook when Hotch's office door closed.

"What was that?" Hotch demanded, though he couldn't quite make his voice sound like it was a demand.

"I am a fuck up." Reid didn't sit down. He had gone back into the state that looked like shock. "My whole career... I threw it away because... because... because I don't know why. Because I fucked up. Because I am a-"

"If you swear one more time-"

"What? You'll fire me?" Reid broke his gaze at nothing to lock eyes with his boss, "That's already going to happen. It's already happening. This job is all I have, Hotch."

Hotch sighed and looked around the room for something to say, "I know. I'm sorry. Trust me when I say I will do whatever I possibly can to make sure you keep this job. As much as we need you I do care about you more, and I believe that you not being on the team would only lead to bad things for everyone."

Reid gulped something down and made his eyes water, "Thank you."

Come two o'clock, Reid was sitting at his desk, going through the motions like normal, already haven taken the test.

Prentiss rolled her chair over, "Hey, how are you?"

Reid looked up and looked his coworker up and down, hands with papers in them paused mid page flip, "Fine, I guess?" He looked back down and finished turning the page.

"Really?" That earned her a sharp look from the younger agent. "Sorry, I just meant that you seemed... not fine this morning."

"Sorry about that." There was an uncomfortable while of silence where Prentiss thought it rude to scoot back away and Reid seemed to have nothing to say. Until he did:

"Um, Prentiss?" He set down the papers and looked at hers slowly.

"Yeah?" She answered casually, but was ready to be bombarded with some internal conflict or another.

"I don't." Reid took a small breath, "I don't remember whatever you were referring to when you said 'this morning.' I actually have no memory of today between the time I left my house and about fifteen minutes ago. And I'm pretty sure I wasn't drugged or hypnotised or hit or anything like that." Reid's eyebrows involuntarily twitched together when he said the words "I don't remember" that were so foreign to him.

Prentiss sat still with her eyes open as wide as her mouth looking for words, "I..."

"Don't tell me what happened. I think there's a reason my brain is protecting me from it. After everything I've seen I can't imagine what would've hurt me enough to make me forget." Reid averted his eyes in shame. He had an idea what it was.

"In itself the thing wasn't horrible, you were just really freaked out." Prentiss tried to be comforting so Reid wouldn't think his mom had died or something.

"Okay, just tell me this... Have I been fired? Say yes or no only." He swallowed down hard.

"No." Prentiss abode by Reid's term and kept everything else to herself.

Reid sighed in relief, but was still worried about what must've freaked him out so much. For now, all he could do was hope it wasn't something completely life-altering and keep working as normally as usual knowing that his memory could fail him. It had actually been doing that a lot recently.

"Do you think eidetic memories can, I dunno, fade away?" Reid asked.

"Like I said, you were just really freaked out. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"No, but before today. Things have been going missing. Little patches from long ago that I haven't revisited, and nearer things, even whole days have been clouded over for me. I don't know what to do. If you're about to suggest undernourishment then I'll tell you that I have done so much worse to myself before and it had almost no effect on my memory." Reid brought himself to hold her eyes the whole time he was speaking. He could feel the worry spilling through them like hot water out of two dark caves drenching him.

"I'm sure you'll be fine." She said one second too late. "I should get back to work." She rolled back away.

Reid decided on another experiment.

 **Turns out I was wrong about having a lot of free time to update. Sorry... I wrote this over a period of a few days so I hope there were no inconsistencies. I've made a few new acquaintances from the comments so if you're looking for someone to just chat with I'm open. This fic will get back to hardcore focus on ED hopefully next chapter. I'm planning a sequel of a different theme (hint: the last conversation of this chapter) that will continue with some ED and depression stuff but won't focus on the ED part. I wasn't even going to finish this chapter until I got denied a high level math class I wanted to take and no job I applied for wanted me. That depression was such inspiration. Let's hope I continue having shitty days so I can actually post. Maybe I'll get a NASA application. I'll definitely be declined for that.**


	12. Research Note

**I'm kinda really pissed at the world (AKA my dad) so I'm taking it out of my keyboard. Have fun interpreting the shit that comes out of it.**

It gave Reid pleasure to set up a real experiment this time, albeit in a very little-league way...

Question: What are the effects of near starvation on an eidetic memory?

Hypothesis: Lack of nutrition will temporarily hinder memory making and recall but will eventually prove to have no permanent effect.

Procedure:

1\. Prohibit all calorie intake for three days, record qualitative data.

2\. On the last day, engage in memory recall tests self set-up throughout the day: (When the first timer goes off, recall word-for-word the last conversation had. When the second timer goes off, recall five events in order that occurred on the same date and in the same hour five years ago. When the third timer goes off, recall the first thing thought word for word when the book nearest the current location was finished being read. Score points out of 10 based on ability to recall, 10 as perfect recollection and 0 as no recollection.)

3\. Eat and drink enough to ensure survival for the two days remaining in the work week.

4\. Prohibit all calorie intake for five days, record qualitative data.

5\. On the last day, engage in set memory tests.

6\. Eat and drink enough to ensure survival for the two days remaining in the work week.

7\. Prohibit all calorie intake for seven days, record qualitative data.

8\. On the last day, engage in set memory tests.

9\. Eat normally for two weeks following recommended amounts for calorie intake, qualitative data not required.

10\. On the last day, engage in set memory tests.

~~~~~~ Data (qualitative): ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Data (quantitative) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 1, trial 1- -Nothing feels different except that I'm tired from lack of coffee. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Day 2, trial 1- -More tired than before (coffee), trouble concentrating. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Day 3, trial 1- -Surprisingly untired, trouble concentrating, probably paranoid - - - First timer/9 second timer/8 third timer/10

Day 1, trial 2- -Not even tired despite lack of caffeine, otherwise normal - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Day 2, trial 2- -Slightly tired, bored, no noticeable memory or concentration problems - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Day 3, trial 2- -Very tired (can't get to sleep), bored, I forgot the name of a victim in a current case today - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Day 4, trial 2- -Still can't sleep, too confused to be bored, they're worrying about me too much; this is science - - - - - - - - - -

Day 5, trial 2- -Overslept and was late, voices echo and don't make much sense - - -First timer/6 second timer/7 third timer/4

Day 1, trial 3- -Can't sleep, Hotch talked to me but I don't think I could hear him, reading speed down

Day 2, trial 3- -Can't sleep, stuttering more, I don't remember doing paperwork but it is finished and in my handwriting

Day 3, trial 3- -I feel like shit, didn't go in to work, slept all day

Day 4, trial 3- -This was a better idea on paper, I can't read anything because I forget the sentence I've just read

Day 5, trial 3- -I forget what I'm doing while I'm doing it, everyone is _really_ worried.

Day 6, trial 3- -Can't stop now, no matter how little of the day I remember.

Day 7, trial 3- -I forgot my name today- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -First timer/0.5 second timer/0.9 third timer/0.2

Day 14, trial 4- -I think I might have royally screwed myself over. I feel better physically but things are fading far too easily...  
First timer/6 second timer/2 third timer/4

Conclusion: Malnutrition does permanently effect an eidetic memory.

 _Let this research serve as the body of my note. I know when I'm useless. I did it to myself. Don't miss me, please. I'm not worth missing. Don't try to find a killer. This was all me.  
Spencer Reid_

 **I took it out on Reid. Not sorry. Review and whatnot. This isn't the last chapter.**


	13. Serial Family Annihilator

**Okay I'm feeling less murderous tonight/this morning. Still, what's done is done. It was the plan to have him commit/attempt/very vividly imagine/plan suicide anyway. Not giving anything away just yet. I'll be skipping some days of trials but basically you'll be reading the story version of some of his logged days. They're probably going to be short and just show part of his day.**

 _Day three, trial one..._

Reid was feeling pretty good. He woke up and actually got out of bed without feeling like falling back asleep. Another plus, he had actually _slept_. So he got dressed and got some water and drove himself to work. The fact that his experiment was underway just improved his mood. He couldn't see anything bad coming out of this.

He was about forty-five minutes early according to his actual start time in the job description, so about usual for him. The profilers, of course, noticed.

"You feeling better?" Emily asked casually before Reid even had a chance to sit down. So casually that Reid actually identified her in his head as Emily instead of Prentiss.

"So much better. Like I'm on top of my game." Reid smiled. He wasn't lying. It felt good not to lie.

"Good, because from what I hear, we're all going to need to be. Something about serial family annihilators competing to see who can kill in the most creative way. That's all I got before Hotch and J.J. saw me and stared me down.

Reid giggled despite himself, sitting down at his desk, "You got caught eavesdropping on the big boss man."

"Don't giggle! Serial family annihilators, Reid!" Emily said through her own near-laughs.

"Serial family annihilators." Reid held his breath to keep from laughing too loudly and turned over a paper to a blank side. Quickly, he sketched a big Cheerio with a mustache, a slightly small Cheerio with a flower clinging to the top of it, and two little Cheerios, one with a baseball cap and one with pigtails. Then he drew the spoon around them and a mouth. He drew an arrow to the mouth and wrote 'annihilator', then an arrow to the Cheerios and wrote 'cereal family'. The two were cracking up uncontrollably. Reid almost fell off of his chair. "Cereal family annihilators!"

"Shhh!" Emily hissed, trying to stop herself from joining in the scene.

"Reid, Prentiss." Hotch projected from just outside the meeting room and gave them a look before entering.

"We should." Reid stood and swallowed his giggles.

"Yeah." Prentiss agreed, regaining her composure.

They walked together quickly. Reid noted, "We don't technically start for another half hour. We shouldn't be called in this early."

"He knows we're all here. It's probably time sensitive." Prentiss speculated.

"Serial and time sensitive? This sounds fun. Imagine 'time sensitive' as an allergy to time itself." Reid finished just as the entered the room, leaving Prentiss with something to imagine. He was in a really weird mood right now.

Hotch stood at the front and looked between the two gigglers. He didn't mind too much because Reid had been acting like he needed to laugh lately. He was glad the young agent had a friend he could do that with.

"Garcia didn't want to see this, and I can't say I blame her. I believe she said something about panda bears even after a non-graphic briefing, so I'll be presenting the case." He clicked an image of a happy looking family (mother, father, daughter, son) onto the screen. "This is the Walter family in Phoenix, Arizona. They were found in their home four days ago with their throats slit." The image changed to their bodies, "The father, Collin, had his left hand removed. It wasn't found on scene. There was, however, a signature. Literally." He changed the photo to be the back wall of the scene. There was a strange symbol in red spray paint gratified over everything in it's way. "This signature is the only way the crimes have been connected. There has been a killing _every night_ since the Walters from the Unsub using red, all with a different MO." The image changed to a different family, this one a single mother with three girls. "The Jacksons, they were all injected with copious amounts hydrochloric acid straight into their bloodstreams. The youngest daughter's ears were both removed and taken." The scene graced the screen. Imaged flashed through, "Holmes family, asphyxiation, oldest son's right foot was taken. Jenna Martin, her husband was away with the kids at the time. Exsanguination, multiple stab wounds, stomach removed, face mutilated. The local officials had too much pride to invite us before now. The Unsub using blue paint is more brutal." More names and pictures flashed by. Reid wasn't squeamish, but he was ready to be sick. He felt terrible for laughing earlier. He knew it was horrible, but he didn't consider it so deeply.

The rest of the room was quiet and unsettled by the end of the briefing.

"Let's get our asses to Phoenix." Morgan was the only to speak. There was a silent agreement. Wheels up ASAP.

Reid stood and felt suddenly dizzy. J.J. rested a hand on him to steady his swaying, "You alright?"

"Yeah, just... this case." He knew that probably wasn't the cause, but J.J. took it with a nod an went to go gossip to Emily or whatever it was they did together. He wasn't so sincerely disturbed by this as everyone else was. That might've been because he missed a large chink of what was being said in the middle. His mind was just elsewhere. Focusing on Hotch seemed like the most impossible thing just then despite how he knew it could save lives. He sighed.

Reid followed behind everyone. He didn't want the feeling of someone following him with killers like this on his mind.

 **It wasn't so much about Reid's experiment as others will be. Don't worry; I know what I'm doing. I pulled those out of my imagination. Hope I didn't go too far... I just needed Reid in a kind of freaked out state because reasons.**


	14. Thank Hotch (that wee blessed unicorn)

**I am almost done with this fic. I can see the end. One or two, possibly three more chapters and I will have completed something in my life for the first time. Wows. Party time, am I right or am I right? Kind of a dark party theme if you ask me. I'm in a good mood. So speaking of good moods, [completely unrelated topic but it has to do with this chapter so I excuse myself] this chapter is written only from Reid's perspective, but no POV stuff. It's still in third person. But just a warning if it's kind of confusing. He's not really mentally sound, like me writing this at 3 am. Combined, I'm not sure we make a whole lot of sense, but hang in there. I hope I made it understandable enough what was real and what was what Reid thinks is real. ANYWAY on with the fic...**

 _Day four, trial two..._

Reid could not sleep. No matter how tired he was, he just couldn't, and no amount of melatonin could change that. Just like no amount of reassurance would change the team's concern for him. He tried to explain that he knew what he was doing, but that was the wrong thing to say, and kind of a lie. It was an experiment. Of course he didn't know what he was doing, then he wouldn't need to experiment. The team was always quiet when things were going on personally within the BAU. It was a silent agreement that behavioral analysis didn't need any more reasons to be scrutinized, so concerns would be kept inside the group.

That's why Reid was left in utter shock when he was called for out loud.

"Reid, we need to talk about your physical evaluation. And your eating habits."

Reid was pretty sure it had been Hotch calling, but he couldn't remember. His mind refused to believe that he had just been called out in front of _everybody_. He stayed put in his chair, staring at a bit of dust on his desk and shaking slightly. He wasn't sure from fear or lack of energy in all areas. That had become a common consideration, whether he was shaking from how many meals he had missed or how scared he was that someone would do something about it.

It took the young agent a few minutes to collect his thoughts enough to actually register that he had been called, and that that required moving. His legs complied, but nothing else moved beyond some shaking.

"Why would you do that?" Reid managed. Some memories that he hadn't realised he'd forgotten came back from the last time he was standing in this spot, looking at Hotch's face like this. When he didn't get fired. Maybe he would _not_ get in trouble this time.

"I needed you here." Hotch answered simply. "You're still horribly underweight, and you are well aware of that, but you seem to be getting thinner. Why are you doing this to yourself? I want to help you, Reid, but I don't understand."

"It's an experiment." Reid said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hotch shook his head as if to say that wasn't enough, "What are you experimenting? How thin you can get before you starve to death? Because I can assure you you're well on your way to completing your 'experiment' if that's what it is." His voice was thick like he was shielding himself from emotions through his words.

"It has nothing to do with my weight. Can I go?" Reid swallowed audibly.

"No. What are you trying to do here?" Hotch demanded though in a slightly softer voice than he had been using.

"You wouldn't understand. But I can promise it won't kill me."

"That might not be enough. Don't get me wrong, you not dying is a good thing, but just being alive is not what I want. The whole team is worried about you, and now this whole building will be as well."

"That's why you were so loud. You think more worry will help me?" Reid's vision started to blurr and suddenly Hotch's voice was far away and untouchable. Reid could hear sounds, and tune in for a few words, but his focus just drifted away to nothing, leaving his mind silent. He only clued back into the real world when his name repeated called him back in.

Hotch's features hosted concern in every line, "I said, considering that you are a caring person, I don't think you want a whole lot of people worrying over you, so it might help. And you failed your physical so miserably that I might have accidentally lost it, and you'll have to retake in three months. That's the latest I could schedule for." His face hardened over his exposed softness, "If you can't pull yourself together by then, it's out of my hands. I'm getting a whole lot of crap about 'losing' your results, and they're using that as a fault against me to prove why I should step down. I can't do anything like this again." He sighed, "Look, I don't want you to ruin yourself. I know you're young and you've had a lot of problems. If it was anyone else I might not be so lenient. I'm asking you to please try to help yourself now. I can't force you to eat anything, but I can try to encourage you to."

Reid was silent for a while, going over what his boss had said. "I think," he said, "you would be this lenient with other team members."

The experiment would continue.

As he was stepping out of the room, his vision blurred again, this time with black spots around the edges that started clouding his whole view.

"Oh my god, Reid, are you alright?" He recognised Garcia's voice.

"Shh, don't draw attention."

She was there to hold him up as he lost consciousness.

Reid woke up in a chair not sure what had happened. Something about Garcia and crappy hands. What? His memory didn't make sense. He wandered the empty room he was put in until he remembered his conversation with Hotch, but he couldn't recall how he'd gotten into this room. Garcia was the other name on his mind. She would know.

He sought her out in her lair.

"Hey, uh, what happened the last time you saw me?" He tried not to sound too weird, but it was hard because of all the echoing making him sound like a garbled alien.

"You passed out. I took you into an unused room to wake up. You said not to draw attention but I kind of failed." It sounded like she was talking to a stray kitten who'd just been kicked into a dumpster by some rich kid's abnormally large and uncute pug. "Don't you remember."

"No..." He tried to dig up the memories but they were gone.

Garcia's eyes widened under her glasses shining with the glare of computer screens, "You forgot. Oh, no, no way. You forgot something."

"It's fine. I've forgotten things before. It doesn't mean my memory isn't eidetic anymore." Reid tried to wave her off. He _had_ forgotten things before. Things that his brain had decided it would be best for him not to remember, but still...

"If you've forgotten thing before then is it really an eidetic memory?" Garcia asked, somehow afraid that maybe Reid just had a normal memory and it was some miracle that he'd memorised all he had before.

"Things like traumatic experiences, and moments before a blackout. Okay? My memory is fine."

"What about you, though? You're shaking. You're so thin. You are so, so thin, honey, and I want to fix you but I can't, and it's killing me."

Reid swallowed and looked down at himself. He could see how she thought that, but really, he didn't look much different than he did years ago. Maybe a little chubbier, actually. The experiment wasn't designed with losing weight as a purpose, but if it happened, it would be a good thing.

Reid chuckled a little. His ribs hurt. Maybe he hit something. "Don't worry about that. I'll be fine. I talked with Hotch. Everything is alright."

"I hope so. I just want Reid back. And I want to punch anorexia in the eye sockets for hurting the BAU's baby."

"I'm not anorexic." Reid said quickly, "And I'm not a baby. Thanks." He left the realm of machines and stumbled out into the light to continue his paperwork. By the end of the day, he had the strange feeling that he should talk to Garcia. It had been a while since he last saw her.


	15. Relief

**I'm pretty sure I over did it with Reid's state of mind, but that's fine. Overlook it for the sake of fanfiction. I anticipate only two or three more chapters in this fic. You already know what happens at the end of his part of the trial where he does take care of himself. When it's almost incoherent, it's Reid's third person perspective.**

 _Day seven, trial three..._

Reid was pretty sure he'd just been briefed. That's why everyone was standing up. He should also stand up. He stood up.

Morgan spoke to him. What did he say? "What did you say?" What did he say? Reid shook his head and walked away.

When did they get in a car? Hi Hotch. "Hi Hotch." He should read the case file over. Sleep? Uncheck. Record data.

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Reid had been really off for a while now, but today was the worst the team had ever seen him. He didn't say anything during the briefing, even wen prompted. Hotch pulled him aside before anyone left to talk to him, but found their genius oddly coherent for what seemed to be his mental state.

"Reid, I know you haven't been eating and I can't force you to but please understand that there is something very wrong with you right now and you _need_ to help yourself."

"I've eaten. Don't worry about me, Hotch. I'm fine. I don't need any help." Reid said. Ignoring the fact that he hadn't met Hotch's eyes, Hotch thought he seemed well enough to cope. He hoped giving the kid a case to think about would help get him focused. It had been almost a week since they had been called in for something. It must've been the bad guys' week off. That dullness gave Reid an excuse to drift off into his own mind with only paperwork to do and then even finishing that.

Reid started walking out of the room but Morgan pulled him aside, "Hey, kid, you alright?"

Reid stopped at the sound of his voice and looked at his friend, "What did you say?"

"Do you think you should sit this one out? Go home? I can drive you." Morgan offered.

Reid stared blankly for a few seconds, then shook his head and followed the flood of agents. He retrieved his go-bag from where it was always _always_ kept and stocked and sat in the back of the van driven by Hotch. He didn't say anything for a while, until "Hi Hotch."

Hotch looked back at him briefly (they were at a light) and tried to find what was wrong with Reid. He couldn't help thinking he was making a huge mistake bringing Reid along.

"Reid, are you listening?" Hotch asked as a precaution. There was no response. Hotch turned to Morgan in the passenger seat, "What do you think?"

"I think he needs to go home. He's been... you know, anorexic, for a while. We should've stepped in before he got this bad, but late is better than never." He looked at the bag of bones in the backseat, "Honestly I don't even know how he's still standing."

"Will you drive him home?" Hotch asked.

"If you don't mind I think it'd be better if I stayed behind altogether on this one to look after our boy genius." Morgan stared helplessly back at Reid.

Hotch nodded, "Of course."

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Home? Okay. Case closed. Sleep? Food! No. Morgan? No, no, no. No food. That would compromise the experiment. "Morgan?" Sleep.

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Morgan helped Reid onto the couch somehow staying afloat in the sea of books on the kid's floor. Either he had been reading recently, which was a good sign, or he just hadn't bothered to clean up for a long time, which was more likely by a long shot.

"Hey, kid, you with me?" No answer. "Reid?" Nothing. "Spencer, don't die on me."

"Not dead." He mumbled from his seat, blinking at his surroundings. He seemed to come to terms with them and closed his eyes again, breathing in such a way that Morgan realised he was probably in pain. Of course he would be.

"I'll get you something to eat." Morgan offered softly.

" _No!_ " Reid's eyes shot open and darted around fiercely, " _No food._ " He grumbled savagely. It was so unlike Reid that it warned Morgan to stay away lest he desired losing a finger to him.

"Okay, alright, no food _right now._ If you don't eat soon you will die, and if I let you die I think I might just have to join you."

That snapped Reid into lucidity, "Morgan, don't you ever consider suicide _ever_ , especially not because of me. Six? Seven... seven, seven, seven. I can eat tomorrow. Don't die."

"Promise you'll eat something tomorrow? And the day after?"

Reid nodded, then the motion turned repetitive and he slipped back into a daze. Morgan sighed and looked in Reid's kitchen. It was literally completely empty. It seemed worth a hundred bucks or so to restock his friend's food supplies. Less reason not to eat if there was already food at our disposal. Morgan got him a glass of water in the meantime.

"Hey, Spencer?"

"Who?" Reid looked at Morgan with no hint of recognition in his eyes for a scary amount of time. "Me." He concluded, and looked equally as frightened as Morgan.

"I, uh, water?" Morgan offered. Reid took the glass and downed the whole thing in record time.

He looked up and blinked. "Morgan?"

"Yeah, it's me." The strong heart of Derek Morgan softened with the blows.

Reid nodded and fell asleep.

He woke up to an empty house and a full kitchen. Morgan had been here, he vaguely recalled. While he was still aware of what he was doing, Reid grabbed his data sheet and scribbled down what he could remember. He remembered that he'd forgotten his name. What a sad thing he had become. Good thing he would be alright soon. Test time came just in time for him to slip barely below the surface of lucidity. He could conduct the tests like second nature, but completing them was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Morgan was here and they talked about... something about water? Maybe not. How could he know? Book. Had he even read that? What happened when... when... hm.

He blinked and it was dark outside. He remembered something about words, but he couldn't make out what they said. He looked back down at his data sheet and gaped at the scores he'd given himself. Compared to the first trial... damn. He had done a number on himself.

Wait. Last trial, done. _Done!_ He was done with the part of the experiment where he had to starve himself! He had never been so ready to stuff himself. With every bite of who-knows-what that he ate, the silently thanked Morgan.


	16. Final Decision

**It's been months I'm sorry. I just can't write this one when I'm in a good place mentally 'cause it'll ruin it. You guys will be pleased to know that, as I am currently feeling like shit, I am now able to update to keep myself sane. This is probably the third to last chapter. I've had time to plan everything out so it's all smooth sailing from here.**

 **Yeah, short chapter, I know, but it was done.**

* * *

It had been a week. A whole week. Sure the team said he was doing better, and sure he was better than he had been at whatever was his lowest point, but things were not going as Reid had wanted them to. After conducting his final followup test, he was forced to face what he had done. His eidetic memory had been broken. And completely by his own doing.

He couldn't even care about his appalling physical condition when he was aware that he couldn't recall whatever he wanted when it was necessary. He glided through his days distracted but functioning, as if that was any better than before. He felt worthless. His mind had been all that he was, all that anyone needed of him, and it was gone. He thought maybe he could hide it. Spend time intentionally memorising things he should surely know if his memory had been perfect and keep up the facade for the team.

Morgan's hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his plan for feigning eideticism.

"Hey, kid. I hate to be the one to bring this up, but... are you remembering things okay? You haven't contributed any facts to anything since, well, since you were really bad."

Morgan's words struck Reid between the ribs. He blinked a few times, trying to remember exactly what Morgan had just said. The idea was there, but the words weren't. Where were the words? Where they would be from now on; dead.

"Yeah, fine." Reid said weakly, which seemed to be his natural state nowadays.

"I'll let you keep doing what you're doing if you can tell me exactly what I just said to you."

Reid's recall thoughts consisted only of _shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit_ , which was not very helpful. His eyes darted around as if he would find the answer being held up helpfully on a whiteboard by JJ behind Morgan. No such luck. Reid tapped his fingers on the desk fretfully, trying anything to summon the words. He couldn't even think in English right now, how was he supposed to recite back what Morgan had said.

Time was apparently up. Morgan let his hand drop from Reid's shoulder with a sigh. "Get better if you can. We need that brain of yours, Pretty Boy." His tone was supportive, Reid supposed, but his words conveyed a completely different meaning. They needed his brain. His fears had been confirmed. They needed his brain, only his brain, and his brain is what he could no longer give. Of course, the only reason he was here was because he had aced the written test. He had proven his genius to them. But proof only lasted so long. This job was his life. He was about to lose his job. It was all that ever motivated him, all he looked forward to and dreaded, all he longed for and despised and was transfixed with and disgusted by and it was his entire life. But they didn't need him. Not without his brain. His life was done with him. It was tossing him out, telling him to toss himself out. Did it even require any more thought? He knew what he had to do. If life was too sheepish to do it for him, he would take his own.

With a new burst of passion, he finished the last of his immediate paperwork and dismissed himself early. He wouldn't need Hotch's permission where he was going. Looking back on what events had led him to this point of mental incompetence-the scars, the tears, the internal screams-it had all been leading to this all along. It was a miracle it had taken him this long to turn to death. So many ups and downs before he had trapped himself in a low. Just when he thought it would be over, it started up again. He would put am end to that. And he already knew exactly what to use as his note. If they wanted to know why he did it, they could read his notebook of tests off of his dead body.

He smiled for the first time in a while.


	17. Finally Free

**It's that crappy time again where I write fanfiction to get over myself instead of doing useful things like homework and studying.**

 _ **This is a triggering fic but this chapter especially. Graphic cutting and suicide. Please don't read if you think you'll be triggered. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Even if Reid thinks it is, suicide is not the answer.**_

* * *

Reid found joy in choosing the knife. At first he had thought about jumping. It seemed quick, and probably the most painless, but he didn't want to inconvenience anyone, leaving his body all spread out and crushed to mush for someone else to clean up. It was a strange feeling, finally being able to do something about all of his problems. They would come to an end.

He was determined to do this himself. He caused the pain himself, he would end it himself. His wrists tingled where he knew he was going to cut. It was the anticipation. He would do it in the bathroom. He was unbothered by the cliche of the location tied to his chosen form of suicide. It was probably a cliche because it was the best place for it. Secret enough that someone couldn't barge into his apartment and catch him, but not so secret that his body would take a while to be found.

His body. He liked the sound of that. Finally being reduced to something other than a brain, as if he had one left.

He almost forgot his journal when he sat down the first time to do the deed. That reminded him why he was doing this. What he had done to himself. Why he was no longer needed here. He scribbled a small note at the end of the journal entries, the tests, telling whoever found him, which would probably be his... ex-team, that he had done this himself, and that they shouldn't look for a killer, and shouldn't miss him.

Forgetting fueled his anger and hate toward himself. It would all be directed to himself. The will he had written when he first got the job that he grew to live for. The one he could no longer have. The one he took from himself.

Tears threatened his eyes, but they weren't from sadness or regret. He deserved what he was going to do to himself. They were from anger toward himself, and hate for himself.

He sat angrily against the bathroom wall and cut deep into his wrist, unaccustomed to the sharpness of the butcher's knife. It stung and throbbed more than he was expecting. Something akin to a yelp escaped him.

Any fear was drowned by the deep blood-too dark and regal to belong to the likes of him-flowing freely down his arm, faster than he had ever seen on himself. It fascinated him. He let it spread onto his clothes and the floor. He had no worldly worries anymore. He would not have to mop up, or pay for dry cleaning. He was paying his last dues now, with this blade. He smiled. He was almost free.

Temptation took over. He wanted out. He sliced again vertically down the length of his forearm. He dropped the blade in pain and resisted the urge to hold the wound. Blood covered the details, but he could see clearly the layers of his flesh as he opened the wound to tempt the blood out faster. He found his hands getting colder. His toes got numb. He let the blood drain from him. It didn't hurt anymore. His whole body was taking the pain and turning it into a numb throbbing. His ears pulsed with his rising heartbeat. More blood continued to ooze from his veins. He picked up the knife again. He wanted this to go faster. He missed once, and that was when he realised he was dizzy. He hit himself the second time, stabbing right through the skin. That one hurt. He could swear he hit bone. He left the blade in his arm. It burned. It stung. It ached so sharply that all he wanted to do was pull it out and stop the pain.

But the pain started to calm down on its own. The edges of the world grew black and fuzzy. It spun. He felt cold. All of his warmth was on the outside. He took a last look around at his glorious carelessness. His clothes were all stained red. His floor barely had a spot that wasn't covered in red. He vaguely wondered, with a slowing, dying mind, how long he had been here, and how long it would take him to bleed out at this rate.

His answer came when he felt himself losing consciousness. He thought of how when people would tell about passing out, they always said that they couldn't remember what happened. They were doing something one minute, and woke up in a different place the next. Reid wanted to think that he would be able to remember the feeling of knowing he was about to pass out, but two things were out of place. He couldn't remember any better than anyone else, and he wouldn't wake up to be able to try.

With that, Reid slipped away.


End file.
